Follow The Sun
by MissWinkles
Summary: Sometimes you have to stop thinking with your head and listen to your heart, follow which way the wind blows and dream with abandon. Because tomorrow is a brand new day, and who knows what it will bring. E/B. Fluffy as fuck, with some sweet salty love.
1. One

**Thank you Josh Pyke, Chet Faker, Bliss n Eso, sunshine, sand in my toes, 30+ sunscreen and the surf coast for their inspiration.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but I do own ugg boots and about four pairs of thongs.  
**

* * *

**One**

* * *

"Bellaaaa?"

I can hear Mum calling me from the driveway on the other side of the house. I've probably been standing here for longer than necessary, just looking, but I just need a minute to let it all sink in.

"Coming!" I yell over my shoulder.

She and Dad are waiting at my car to see me off on my big adventure - my first step into the real world without them. I'm all packed up; twenty-four years of belongings stuffed into my tiny two-door Barina. Clothes, knick-knacks, books, bedding - everything I own is shoved into any available space in the car. There's stuff on the roof, in the boot, on the back seat; it's piled up so high I can't see through the back window.

Inhaling, I savour the scent of the eucalyptus trees and dry earth; the smell of the land, the smell that's drifted in my bedroom window since forever. The high pitched keening of Cicadas buzzes loudly around me, punctuated by the cackle of a kookaburra overhead, hidden somewhere in the canopy above me.

It's almost one in the afternoon and the sun is at its hottest; oppressive and stifling. I'll miss the crunch of dry leaves and dirt under my feet. I'll miss the feeling of the sun on my skin; blazing hot and burning across my shoulders and the back of my legs.

"Come on, Bella! Chop, chop!" yells my mum again, clapping her hands together.

"I'm coming!" I yell. "Jesus."

I frown, letting a gum leaf crumble between my fingers, the scent of eucalyptus staining my skin.

My thongs scuff the dirt as I walk around the house, taking in its white weatherboards one more time.

For the past few weeks I've been too excited to be nervous. And now, standing on the precipice of my future – I'm absolutely shitting myself. I've lived in the same house since I was born, been in the same bedroom since I can remember, played chasey and stuck-in-the-mud with my neighbour Jake Black since we were six. But now I'm twenty-four, almost twenty-five, and it's time to be an adult. It's time to stand on my own two feet and take matters into my own hands. Take the bull by the horns and all that jazz.

So, in the interest of being mature, I've packed up all my earthly belongings and I'm going to haul ass six hours interstate to a little coastal town called Clearwater, where my aunt and uncle live. I've seen the beach once, when I was about twelve. Other than that, I know it's big and it's wet and there are sharks. To say I'm apprehensive is an understatement. I'm both excited and scared about integrating myself into the whole new lifestyle. I'm not used to cold weather or rain. I'm used to the dry heat and space of the country, to quiet streets and swimming in the river. I grew up getting dirty, getting busted knees, and racing Jake to the fence and back. I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't live hundreds of kilometers from civilisation, I don't ride kangaroos or have a pet wallaby, and I don't throw freaking shrimps on barbies. I live in Forks, a small country town like any other. We even have a _Target_.

Okay, it's _Target Country_, but whatever.

I drive a piece of shit Holden Barina that I paid for by working my ass off for my dad, and the last time I saw a kangaroo was on the side of the road. Dead. But the problem is that as much as I love Forks, I have to get the fuck out.

Mum's standing beside the car while Dad finishes strapping some things to the roof. Since making the decision to leave town she's been pretty supportive, although I'm pretty sure she's going to turn my bedroom into a sewing room the minute I'm out of the driveway.

"You okay, sweetie?" she asks, a hand on her hip as the other shields her eyes from the sun. Wrapping an arm over my shoulder, she pulls me into her side.

I shrug, crossing my arms over my chest, pressing my lips together and suppressing the urge to cry.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Unlike mum, I'm not an emotional person. I'm much more like dad; we're stoic, bottle-it-up-and-smile kind of people.

"You got the map?" asks Dad, checking the tires for the second time.

"Yeah."

"And your phone's got battery?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Did you call Aunt Jessie to let her know you're coming today?"

"Yes!" Both Mum and I answer. Dad's head pops up from the under the hood, the dipstick in his hand. Grunting and mumbling under his breath, he wipes it once and shoves it back in, letting the hood slam closed.

"Call us when you get there, okay?"

I nod, giving Mum a quick hug, and Dad one of those awkward, one-armed embraces.

He's not much of a hugger. Weddings, funerals, and occasionally when he's had one too many beers, which even then is weird. Mum's the opposite; she hugs everyone. She'd hug the bloody postie if he wasn't on a motorbike. Even then, if he's not quick off the mark I'm sure she'd chase him down.

Squeezing myself into the person-sized space left in my car, I plug my iPod into my awesome new stereo – a birthday gift from Jake. My speakers are shit, and he had to cut into my dashboard to make the CD player fit, but it means I don't have to listen to crappy mainstream radio, or even worse – ABC talkback.

"Safe trip," says Dad, tapping his hand on the roof as he closes the door for me.

With a gulp and a deep breath, I start the car and roll slowly down the driveway, watching my Mum and Dad wave goodbye in my rear view mirror. Turning out onto the highway makes my chest tight all of a sudden, and as I turn onto the road, the fear that's been creeping in since I woke up hits me full force, and I want nothing more than to turn the car around, run back inside, and jump back into my old bed. Of course, my iPod chooses that moment to play a particularly sappy song, and tears begin to well in the corners of my eyes. I wipe them away with the palm of my hand, but as soon as I wipe one away, another falls, and then my hands are all wet and it's not making a difference.

_You can do this, Bella! Don't be a chicken._

I can't do this.

Yes I can.

Oh, fuck. I'm not ready.

Slamming on the brakes, my car skids to a halt just metres outside the front gate. I fist my trembling hands in my lap, shaking them out as my knee jiggles under the steering wheel.

How do I know if a chicken is cooked all the way through?

How much fabric softener do I put in the washing machine?

Are you supposed to iron undies?

Oh, shit!

Swinging the driver's side door open, I leap out of the car and break into a jog, my thongs flip-flapping against the soles of my feet. My parents are still standing in the same spot, my dad rubbing my mum's back as she pats a tissue to the corner of her eyes, sniffling. The front of my shoe catches on the ground, and I almost fall ass over tit, but regain my footing as I reach them. Mum steps forward as I get to her, and I throw myself into her arms. Squeezing me tight, she rocks us from side to side as I take deep breaths, inhaling her familiar scent; lavender body wash and that stupid Vaseline body cream she slathers on every morning.

"Oh, Bella. You'll be fine," she whispers. "You can do this."

I nod, pulling away a little as she cradles my face in her hands. Her bright blue eyes look back at me, her pale skin, patchy and weathered from years of farm work, blotchy and red from her tears. She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the sides, and I smile back, hugging her tight one more time.

"Love you."

"Love you, too," I reply, taking a step back.

Dad shuffles beside me, looking uncomfortable as he adjusts his hat.

Ignoring his discomfort, I swing my arms up and around his neck, burying my face in his flannel-covered chest. Clearing his throat, he pats my back gently. I can feel his voice rattling through his chest as I press the side of my face against him, holding him tight.

Letting myself drop back to the ground, I stuff my hands in the back pocket of my shorts. Dad has this strange bashful look on his face as he rubs a hand over his bushy cheek.

"Make sure you visit, okay?" he says gruffly.

"I will."

"Quick, go," says Mum, shooing me. "Before I get all mushy again."

Walking backwards, feeling a little calmer than I did a moment ago, I take one last look at my parents, wishing I had a camera to capture this last moment; the huge old farmhouse behind them, the green-grey of the gum trees around it, my parents; smiling calmly like their only daughter isn't about to step into the big bad world alone for the first time.

It takes me a few minutes to start the car again. Twice I move to turn the key in the ignition, but stop, letting my hands fall on my lap again.

_Do it._

_Do it._

_You can do it. _

My fingers move to the ignition, the car starts, and with a heavy foot on the accelerator, my car lurches into motion again, and I'm off.

* * *

**Thank you to Meg and Tiff; back on board to help like the wonderful girls they are. To twinlove Thimbles, and riot grrrl Luvrofink - my awesome prereaders.**


	2. Two

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I wish I did. I just own this story.  
**

* * *

** Two**

* * *

A cool, salty-smelling breeze blows in the front window as my car winds its way along the ocean road – the sea on my left, cliff side on my right. It's still staggering just how much water there is; so blue and endless, stretching all the way from the horizon to the base of the cliffs below me.

As I make the final hairpin turn down into Clearwater, a lookout point appears on the shoulder of the road and, making a last minute decision, I pull the car off to the side and park. My back aches, my butt is sore, I have pins and needles, and I'm pretty sure my right arm has a better tan than the left after hanging outside the car for six hours. Stretching my arms up over my head, I sigh as the blood begins to flood back to my extremities. It feels good to be out of the car.

The wind whips around my head, my hair flapping into my eyes and across my mouth as I try to tame it. I can taste the salt on my lips already; smell the sea on the wind. I take a few pictures of the view to send back to Mum and Dad, maybe even throwing in a little selfie for posterity.

To my right I can see Clearwater as it sits nestled in an inlet, both sides of the town sheltered by towering cliffs and rolling hills beyond that. While it's windy up here on the cliff-side, I know it will be calm and sunny in town. From my vantage point I can see the long stretch of main beach, the perfect creamy yellow colour of the sand, and the rows of tiny houses and shops that dot the shore.

Looking over the edge of the cliff, further out to sea, I see a group of surfers floating on their boards, bobbing over the waves before they crest. I watch them for twenty minutes or so, looking on as they catch a wave, ride it in, and then paddle back. The ocean looks rough, and a lot of the surfers stack it pretty quickly. But one or two of them seem able to stay on, riding it all the way in without falling off. It's kind of repetitive, but mesmerising to watch. Catch the wave, paddle back, catch the wave and paddle back. I snap a few more photos, enjoying the way the sunlight dances off the sea, and generally delaying the need to get back in the car.

When I do get back to the car, I find a missed call from my mum. She's called twice since I left the house, Jake's called once, and Aunt Jessie once as well. It seems that no matter how far you are away from family, they still manage to bug the shit out of you.

* * *

"My God! Look at you," says Aunt Jessie, holding me at arm's length as she looks me over. "You're practically a woman!"

She, on the other hand, appears much the same as I remember, just older. She's still tall, which she gets from dad's side, and still has the dark, sparkly eyes I remember. But now her hair is smattered with greying wisps, and deep laugh lines have formed at the corners of her mouth and eyes; the kind that crinkle when she smiles.

"Mick!" she yells, pulling me into the house. "Bella's here!"

"You must be so tired from all that driving. Let's get you inside so you can have a drink and a sit down."

"Actually, I've been sitting down for about six hours; a stand up would be nice."

Jessie laughs. "Of course, watch that step. Mick!" she yells again. She talks a mile-a-minute at me; the surf club, her quilting group, golf - she's still swimming every morning, which I guess is why she looks so good for her age. And as she talks, I take the time to rediscover her house.

Aunt Jessie and Uncle Mick never had any kids, which is why I didn't grow up with any cousins. They preferred to spend their time travelling, surfing the world's best beaches, and collecting all sorts of weird and bizarre trinkets along the way. There's an entire wall of photos just outside the kitchen, everything from temples in Cambodia to family photos. Leaning in, I squint, smiling at the sight of my dad at what looks to be about my age. His hair is short, combed neatly to the side, his face bare of all facial hair - which is a strange thing to see. That man's had a moustache since I was born. Sometimes I forget he's even got a top lip.

"He was a bit of spunk, your dad," says Jessie, handing me a glass of cordial.

I nod, taking a sip. The taste of the orange drink is like an instant throwback to my childhood.

"I don't know where your uncle is," she continues, flitting around beside me. "At the club with the boys probably. Anyway, come put your stuff in your room. Watch the floor here, I just mopped, it's probably a bit wet still."

She leads me down a short, linoleum-lined hallway to the spare bedroom.

"Are you hungry, darl? I've got stuff in the fridge for dinner if you want. We usually go to the club on a Saturday night. Just make sure you push this door hard, it sticks a little..."

Aunt Jessie seems to talk _at_ me rather than _to_ me. I just nod and smile at the appropriate times.

My bedroom is small, not overly so, just a little cramped. It's only a single bed with a set of drawers and a bedside table, but I guess it's all you need. The walls are covered with all sorts of random things; masks from Indonesia, elephant carvings from Thailand, wall hangings from eastern Europe. It's completely mismatched and I can tell it was thrown together hastily at the announcement of my arrival. Hopefully I won't be here too long; I can imagine living in a house with my aunt and uncle, in a room this size, will be suicide for my social life.

It's only five-thirty, but I'm suddenly overcome with sleepiness. Even the tiny single bed shoved into the corner of the room looks inviting.

"Bella?"

Yawning, I spin around. "Sorry, what?"

Jessie smiles. "I just asked if you wanted to come for dinner. You look pretty tired though."

Closing my eyes briefly, I nod. "Yeah, I am. Maybe tomorrow night?"

"Course," she says. "I'll leave my mobile number just in case you need anything. There's food in the fridge, and there's a million DVD's if you get bored." She walks off, back down the hallway, talking to me over her shoulder. "We should be back about ten or so. Depending on how much your uncle's had to drink. He's probably had a skin full already..."

She's still talking when I sink down onto the bed, sighing as I lie down. The blankets smell a bit dusty and the springs in the bed creak as I move, but it's comfortable.

* * *

When I wake, the room is dim, the sun casting an orange glow through the window. Checking my watch I find I've been sleeping for over an hour. The house is quiet; no doubt Jessie is at the surf club with Uncle Mick. I'm actually glad for the solitude, for a little peace and quiet. The drive has worn me out, and I don't know how much more of her incessant talking I can deal with.

Padding out to the lounge room, I'm pleasantly surprised to find the whole house bathed in the orangey-pink hues of the sunset as they pour through the front windows. Hungry, I rifle through the fridge, settling on some cheese and biscuits and one of Uncle Mick's fancy pants boutique beers. The front veranda has a great big hammock slung between the posts, so I unsteadily plop myself into it, my feet resting on the railing.

We got some pretty amazing sunsets at home, especially since it was so flat, with nothing to obscure the view. But here, with the glittering sea stretching out in front of me, it really is something.

Rocking myself slowly in the hammock, I watch as the last of the surfers come in off the beach across the road. They're nothing but dark silhouettes against the bright colours of the sunset, their boards tucked under their arms as they laugh and call out to each other. I can hear their wet feet slapping on the pavement as they all load up into their vans and beat up cars. Boards strapped to rooftops or into the back of vans, they all clamber in and take off, and I watch as they all go their separate ways. And then as quickly as they descended, they're gone and the beach is quiet again.

From the veranda I can hear the waves lap lazily against the shore, whooshing and frothing as they roll up the sand and back again. I'm so used to the sound of crickets and cicadas, the sounds of the bush. But this is definitely just as nice, soothing even.

Sitting with my feet out in front of me, I watch as the last of the sun's light slips over the horizon. The easy part is over; I made it, I'm here. Tomorrow, the hard stuff starts.

Starting a new life is scary as shit; new job, new friends, new house - but I think I'm ready.

* * *

**Thank you Tiff and Meg my betas, and Thimbles and Luvrofink, my prereaders. They are all ten kinds of awesome. **

***Note: There might be some phrases, or some wording that needs clarification. If I remember, I'll try and put a note at the bottom from now on so people don't think Bella's wearing g-strings on her feet. (You can always ask too.)  
**

**Thank you to anyone who reviewed and fave'd. The first chapter is always the scariest.** **Lucky there's some sun kissed boy on the horizon...**


	3. Three

**Gird your loins, ladies.**

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, I own this story. Please to not be copying it.  
**

* * *

**Three**

* * *

My Uncle Mick is kind of a freak. Not in the literal sense - he doesn't have a third eye or six nipples or anything. But at almost sixty-two he still gets up at the ass crack of dawn every morning to surf. He plays tennis on the weekends, and volunteers at the surf lifesaving club. He also feels the need to walk around the house in just a towel, and likes to smack my Aunt Jessie on the ass, making her giggle. He's an eighteen-year-old boy stuck in the body of a sixty-year-old man. But he's a good guy; warm, friendly, and funny – even if it is just old-man joke funny.

Another annoying fact about my aunt and uncle: they seem to know every-freaking-one in town. Sitting outside _Mint_, the town's best pub/bar/restaurant, they practically draw a crowd as people stop to chat. They both introduce me of course, but frankly, I'm too busy checking out the hot barman to give a shit.

I've been in Clearwater for almost a week now, and he's one of the first cute guys I've seen. He's tall - really tall, definitely over six foot - and has a mop of dark brown hair that's been pulled up and tied back, exposing the shaved sides of his head. He keeps fiddling with a piercing on his lower lip, popping it in and out of his mouth as he concentrates on pouring a beer.

"Bella?"

"Huh?"

Jessie looks over her shoulder, and then turns back to me, grinning knowingly.

"Jasper's a bit of a hunk, isn't he?"

Groaning quietly, I avert my eyes from the cute bartender, and spear a piece of cucumber with my fork.

"You are such a perv."

She chuckles quietly, her shoulders jiggling as she tries to hide it.

"What? I might be old, but I'm not blind, Bells. Anyway, all the girls in town think Jasper's cute."

"All the more reason for her to stay away," interrupts Mick, giving Jessie a stern look. "Charlie would take me out the back paddock if I let this one get in trouble."

Rolling her eyes, Aunt Jessie pokes out her tongue. "Oh, boo to you. Let the girl have some fun."

"Can we stop talking about my love life please? It's awkward and creepy."

"Alright," says Jessie, her hands up in defense. "Don't get your knickers in a knot."

"How's the job hunting?" asks Uncle Mick, swallowing the last half of his beer in one gulp.

"Okay, I guess," I say with a shrug, watching the cute barman talk to a pretty blonde behind the bar. "I'm trying not to be picky, but there's just not much around right now."

I've never been much of a career girl. Since I left school six years ago I've had four jobs. I worked in childcare for a while, until I realised I don't like kids. Then I worked at a coffee shop for a while, except that I used to burn the food and got fired for being rude to customers. I also tried working as a receptionist, and in a restaurant. But, needless to say, neither of them worked out either. Part of my mission in Clearwater, in my new life, is to figure out just what the shit I want to do with it.

So far, it's not going that well.

Nodding, Mick takes a big bite of his steak sandwich, wiping a smear of beetroot and mayonnaise from his whiskery cheek. "Things will pick up once the season starts in a few months."

The sun is warm on my back, but I forgot to put sunscreen on, and I can feel my skin starting to prickle under its intense glare. Shifting, I try to maneuver myself into the shade of the umbrella above us.

"Why don't you see if Ben has something?"

"Who?" I ask around a mouthful of chicken.

Jessie looks around, and for a moment I freak out, thinking that she's going to call this Jasper guy over. Thankfully, she doesn't. Instead, she calls over Ben, a short guy with crazy blonde hair – who apparently owns the place. He's the epitome of the surfer type; with dark tanned skin and wayward sun-bleached hair that reaches past his chin.

"Hey, Jess, Mick. Everything okay?"

"Everything's spot on, thanks Ben," replies my Uncle. "How's Ange?"

Ben smiles and his eyes soften immediately, a look of awe in his expression. "She's doing well. Six weeks to go."

"Six weeks?" shrieks Jessie, startling most of the people around us, me included. "Bloody hell, that went fast."

Ben nods in agreement. "Tell me about it."

"You need a refill, Mick?" he asks, taking Uncle Mick's empty pot glass.

Mick waves a hand, shaking his head. "Nah. Ben, this is my niece Bella. Bella, this is Ben. He owns this place."

With a mouth full of salad, I shake his hand politely.

"You guys looking for any work over the season? Bella here needs a job."

_Way to be subtle, Uncle Mick_. I cringe, giving him a bitchy side-eye.

Smiling, Ben crosses his arms over his barrel-like chest.

"Well, can you pull a beer, Bella?"

I nod vigorously.

"And you've got your RSA?"

I nod again. "I worked at a pub for a while." Yet another job on the list.

Ben rubs his hand over his chin, considering it. "You available tomorrow night?"

Sitting up straight, I nod again.

"Alright," he says with a smile. "You can do a shift tomorrow night. There's an eighteenth at the bar next door, and a hen's party upstairs. We'll do a trial run and see how you go, yeah?"

Holy shit.

When Ben leaves the table, I turn and give Uncle Mick a bone-crushing hug – bitchy side-eye be damned!

The blistering sun suddenly doesn't seem so hot and the day feels brighter at the idea of a job on the horizon.

Gainful employment? Check.

Well, hopefully.

* * *

I spread my towel on the warm sand, and throw my things down beside it before slipping my shirt off over my head. It feels a little weird being almost naked in public, and although my bikini top covers me, I'm still a hideous shade of lily-white and a little self conscious.

Even at two in the afternoon on a weekday, there's still a bunch of surfers out in the deeper water. I watch them mess around, pushing each other off their boards as they wait for a wave. I wonder what it must be like, riding that relatively small piece of foam, completely at the ocean's mercy as they bob and weave through the water, waiting to be spat out at the end.

A mother and her little one sit nearby, the little girl in a cute little one-piece dotted with yellow flowers. A matching yellow hat sits on her tiny head, and she screams, giggling as the waves chase her up the shore, her chubby little legs kicking out in front of her as she runs.

Lying on my towel, I type out a few quick texts to some friends at home, scan Facebook for anything interesting, stopping very briefly to check Jake's page. It's not stalking, it's just curiosity. After another hour or so of people watching and listening to my iPod, I pack my things up and decide to walk home along the beach, rather than through town.

A few metres from the water, a group of surfers walk by; wetsuits on their hips, dripping with water and exhausted smiles.

I walk on, my thongs dangling from my fingers, my t-shirt still stuffed in my beach bag.

"Hey."

I look up to see a guy beside me; suit slung low, a surfboard tucked under his arm.

"Hey," I reply politely.

He keeps walking backwards beside me as I continue on, grinning at me as I look at him confused.

"You right?" I ask.

He nods. "I'm fine, thanks. You?"

I can't help but smile despite myself. He's got a cheeky grin, and his wet hair keeps flopping over his eyes, only to be thrown backwards as he flicks his head to get it out of the way.

"Fine," I chuckle. "Thanks for asking."

"I'm Edward, by the way." He holds his hand out, and I'm amazed he doesn't fall flat on his ass as he continues to walk backwards, never faltering. He's very cute, with his grey-blue eyes and tanned skin, but this has to be the lamest attempt at a pick-up I've ever encountered.

I look at his outstretched hand. "I'm taken. But thanks anyway."

"Ohhhh," he groans, clutching a hand to his bare chest. "You going to use the fake boyfriend line on me? I'm hurt."

"You're game is what you are. How do you know I don't have a muscled-up footy player boyfriend around here?"

"Cuz I've been watching you since you sat down on the beach a few hours ago. And you turned up without a muscled-up footy player." He wiggles his eyebrows at me suggestively, and I smile through my shock. I'm momentarily stunned that he noticed me, maybe even a little flattered. He laughs at my expression, his head thrown back, perfect teeth and pretty eyes sparkling in the sun. There's something boyish and intensely charming about the way he looks at me, something that makes my insides turn and my palms sweat.

I'm about to give him another mouthful, when his friends call out to him from further down the beach.

"You're not even going to give me your name?" he asks.

"You're kind of a pest, you know that?"

He shrugs. "I like to call it persistent."

The waves splash up around my ankles as I pretend to think about it.

"Come on...I'll leave you alone if you tell me your name." He smiles, tucking a corner of his lip under his teeth.

"Ooh, tempting."

His friends call him again, and he waves at them, looking frustrated. I take that as my cue to exit, trying to slip away while his attention is diverted.

"Hey, wait! Nothing? Not even a hint?"

"Becca. My name is Becca."

He stands still as I walk on. "Bye, Becca!"

I wave a hand over my shoulder. "Bye, Edward."

* * *

**Tiff and Meg tell me where the semi-colons go. Then I forget and put them wherever I like. They don't get mad and for that I love them both. Thimbles and Ink hold my hand and flail with me - often - cos I'm flaily like that.**

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews, it's nice to see some Aussie faces out there.**


	4. Four

**Disclaimer: You know the drill.**

* * *

**Four**

* * *

"Bella, this is Rosie."

The pretty blonde lifts her head from the drinks fridge and waves.

"And over there is Pauly and behind him, Jasper."

Ben points to the tall, dark-haired barman I'd been eye fucking earlier the day before. He greets me with a smile and a wink as he continues to work, serving a gaggle of swooning teens who are practically falling over the bar to get to him.

And that's about all the introduction I get to Mint and its inner workings before we're slammed by customers. Rose is helpful, pointing out the basics to me as we go: how to work the till, where the lemon wedges are, how to refill the ice. As well as the usual crowd, the eighteenth from the restaurant next door spills into the pub, bringing young, drunk, obnoxious teenagers with it. Add to that a bunch of sloppy, screaming hens, and it makes for a busy night.

I meet Rose properly when she catches a bottle of vodka I almost smash only an hour into my shift. After that we get along like a house on fire. She's a smart ass who doesn't take shit from anyone, especially Jasper, who it turns out is her twin brother.

Yep. They're related.

Which makes Jasper officially out of bounds. I may have only known her a few hours, but Rose is not the kind of person I want to screw with, not to mention that fact that sleeping with another staff member is probably not the best way to keep a job.

"Three Coronas, three pineapple Cruisers, and a Red Bull and vodka. That's sixty-eight fifty."

"What? How much?"

"Sixty-eight fifty!" I yell over the crowded bar.

"But I only have fifty bucks," the kid pouts, flipping his greasy hair out of his eyes.

"Well, you better find some more money."

"Can't you take back the Cruisers?"

Resting my hands on the bar, I glare at him. "I've already opened the bottles."

"That's fuckin' stupid."

I fight the rising urge to call _him_ fucking stupid. "Tell you what; let's make it fifty, and I'll pretend you haven't been talking to my tits for the last fifteen minutes."

He blushes; embarrassed at being caught. And with a dramatic hurumph, takes the drinks and throws the fifty at me.

"Wanker," I spit, shoving the money in the till. As soon as the till closes I feel bad. Not only was I a bitch to the customer, but I gave away fifteen dollars. Great start, Bella.

"Don't stress," yells Rose. "There's always some dickhead trying to pull that shit. Next time let Paul or Jasper serve his broke ass," she says, leaning on the bar tap, waiting for some guy to order a drink.

"Come on," she barks at him. "This isn't a peep show, mate. Order a drink or fuck off."

I stifle a laugh as the pageant queen in front of me finally decides what she wants to drink.

"I'll have a Cosmopolitan," she says, her sparkly crown sitting lopsided on her head. With a bright pink sash over her chest, I'm guessing she's part of the hen's party.

"A what? A cosmopolitan?"

Jasper laughs beside me, filling a jug of beer, muscled and inked arms flexing as he pulls the tap towards him.

"Unless it's bottled, we don't sell that fruity shit."

I grin sweetly at the woman at the bar. "Sweetheart, we've got beer, we've got cider, we've got pre-mixes, or - oh! - we've got beer. On no, wait, we have water."

She huffs, and rolling her eyes points to the beer fridge behind me. "A red Breezer then. And a water."

I plonk the red drink down in front of her, and scoop up a glass of ice and put it down next to it.

"That's not water," she says, looking at the glass of ice. No please, no thank you, just a sour look on her face as she taps her hideously long nails on the countertop.

"Well give it a minute or two and it will be!" I snap, slamming her change onto the bar with more force than necessary.

Jasper and Rose both laugh loudly. "You gotta hire this chick, Ben!" yells Rose over her shoulder. "She's a fucking crack up."

The rest of the night flows smoothly, in fact, the next time I look up, it's almost midnight. My arms and hands are sticky with beer, and I'm pretty sure I smell like a brewery, but I'm enjoying it. Jasper is a huge flirt, and not just with me. It doesn't escape my notice that the women seem to stand up his end, fluttering their lashes and propping their tits on the bar as he passes. And he loves the attention, he bats his lashes right back and gives them that cute little smile of his.

Rose and I work the other end together and get along really well. She's got that beach babe look down pat; minimal makeup, sun-bleached blonde hair, tanned skin. To be honest, I think she intimidates guys more than attracts them. They strut up to the bar like they own the place, but the moment her bright blue eyes turn their gaze on them, they turn into bumbling, stuttering idiots.

"Hey there."

I look up, trying to hide a smile as Edward leans on the bar in front of me.

"You again?"

"Yep." He grins, and his mate next to him watches on, looking perplexed.

"What can I get you?" I ask, gesturing to the taps. As cute as he is semi-naked, he's almost just as cute fully clothed. The light grey t-shirt he's wearing makes his eyes look closer to blue than grey, and his skin glows golden against the colour.

"Since when do you work here?"

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I shrug a little. "Since tonight. I hope."

Edward's about to reply, when Rose comes over, nudging me aside so she can get to the post-mix tap.

"I see you've met Bella."

His eyes widen, and I stifle a laugh as he realises I gave him the wrong name. He rests his forehead on the bar with a groan. "Ohhhh, you didn't!"

I shrug. "I thought you said you'd leave me alone."

"You told me your name was Becca!"

"You gave him the old fake-name line?" his mate asks, laughing at a chagrined Edward.

I rest my arm against the beer tap. "So do you want a drink, or are you going to stand there all night looking pretty?"

Lifting his head from the bar, Edward smiles. "You think I'm pretty?"

_Shit._

"Do you want a drink or not?"

"A pot of heavy, please."

"Ooh," croons Edward's friend as I pour the drink. "Oh, Ed. The girl can pour a beer. I think it might be in love."

Edward doesn't answer; he just puts his hand over his heart and smiles at me. Momentarily stunned, beer spills over the rim of his glass and tumbles over my fingers. Cursing, I wipe my wet hand on the towel hanging from my pants. Thankfully, if Edward notices he doesn't say anything.

"What about your girlfriend here?" I ask, gesturing to his friend.

His mate flutters his blonde lashes at me and tucks his hands under his chin; shaggy brown hair and green eyes gazing back at me. "I'll have what he's having."

Shaggy hair introduces himself as Riley before paying and leaving Edward at the bar with an incredibly obvious wink and a thumbs up.

Edward rolls his eyes, but turns back to me nonetheless. "You're new here, hey?"

"Is it that easy to see?"

He shrugs. "Well, you're kind pale for a local, and I've lived here forever and definitely would have noticed you around."

"I bet," I reply with a raise of my eyebrows.

Leaving him with a smile and a drink, I push on. But once I know he's there, it's like I'm constantly distracted by him. I watch him move around, never straying too far from the bar, talking to the other locals and fending off tipsy bridesmaids. He stands with a big group of guys who all kind of look the same; lots of baseball caps and t-shirts, thongs and bronzed skin.

I look down at my own freckled, pale skin and beach-frizzed hair. I can see what Edward meant about sticking out like a sore thumb. I mean, I've been here all of two seconds and I can already spot the tourists amongst the locals. 'Blow-ins' they call them. Apparently they roll in like a tidal wave; happy snappers and pasty-white city folk, clogging up the streets and beaches, keeping the lifesavers busy.

Edward refuses to let Rosie serve him, instead, waiting until I'm free. He makes me smile with his unabashed flirting. He's forward, but instead of being sleazy, it's kind of flattering. At home the boys thought flirting was buying a girl a can of rum and taking her out behind the pub for a pash. Edward even gives me a little wink and a wave before he leaves.

He's trouble and he knows it.

"See you round, Bella," he yells across the rapidly emptying bar.

I wave back, feeling a blush creep up my chest as Jasper snorts behind me.

After Paul and Jasper have chased out the stragglers, we lock up and begin cleaning. I'm knackered, my feet are aching and I smell like beer, yet for the first time in my life I'm not quite ready to leave the job.

"So what's with you and Edward?" asks Rose, wiping the beer taps over.

"What?" I say, maybe a little too defensively. "Nothing. He's just obnoxious."

Rose laughs. "Yeah, I know _that_. I've known Edward since we were in nippers together."

"Nipples?" asks Jasper as he walks past. "Did you just say nipples?"

"I didn't say nipples, Rosie said nipples."

"Nippers!" yells Rosie. "I said Nippers!" "

Jasper shrugs, lifting a slab of Carlton off the floor. "I thought you said nipples."

Rosie snorts. "You would. I was telling Bella about your mate Edward."

"Waaard. Wardo. Ed-waaard. Yeah, what about him?"

"I was trying to tell her to keep her distance."

"Why? It's obvious they want to bang each other, so why not?"

I'm a little embarrassed that both Rose and Jasper noticed what I thought was harmless flirting. I make a mental note to keep a lid on it next time. If there is one.

Rose slaps Jasper on the shoulder. "Because, dingbat. He's not boyfriend material."

Jasper rubs his arm. "Who said anything about a boyfriend? I'm just talking about getting a root."

"You're disgusting."

"Actually..." Both Rose and Jasper stop cleaning up, and look at me. "I just got out of a...thing...with a guy. So I'm not really looking for a boyfriend anyway."

"See?" says Jasper, slapping Rose on the arm.

"A thing?" says Rose, her cloth hanging mid-air as she waits for me to elaborate.

Bending into the ice trough, I pull the plug, letting the melted ice flow down the sink. "It was..." My hands wrap round my throat lightly as I make a choking noise. "Suffocating. That's all I'll say. But I just want to have some fun, you know? I mean, not in a slutty way - Jasper don't even look at me like that. Just in a no strings attached, no boundaries, no rules kind of way."

Rosie nods. "I get it. Sew your wild seeds or whatever. I get it, girl. Good on you."

Jasper sidles over, leaning on the bar beside me as I stack the clean glasses. "I like you, Bella. You're a top chick. So I'm going to finish what Rosie started. Edward's cool. My best friend. But...man, how do I put this? He _likes_ girls, he's just not about to fall in love with one, you know?"

I frown, wondering momentarily how some harmless flirting turned into this. "No."

Jasper hums, rolling a glass around in his hand as he tries to figure out what to say. "The day Edward Masen finds a girl that's more important to him than the waves, is the day I eat my hat."

"So he's a player?"

Jasper grins. "Nah, Edward doesn't have enough game to be a player. Edward is just..._Edward_. He doesn't have time for girls."

I nod, getting it, but not really getting it at all.

"Me, on the other hand," he continues, smirking at me. "I've got all the time in the world for the fairer sex. In fact, if you ever..."

"Jasper!" yells Ben, tossing a dishtowel at him. "No molesting the new staff."

I drop the wet towel in my hands. "You mean I got the job?"

"You're good behind the bar, you don't take shit, and well...you're Jessie's niece. I can't say no, can I?"

I jump up and down so much I bump into the bar, knock over a bottle of whiskey and break a glass.

* * *

- **18** is the age in which teenagers in Australia can; vote, drink and drive. Most kids have big parties to celebrate this fact.

- **Hens** - Bachelorette

- **Cruisers/Breezers** - pre-mixed Vodka/Rum based drinks, usually high in sugar, brightly coloured and considered "girly". And yes, drinks really do cost that much in Australia.

- **Nippers** - a nickname given for children, or in this case, the name given to children aged 5-13 years who are part of a surf life saving club. Children are taught to swim in the ocean, body board, spot a rip and other basic sea skills.

* * *

**Tiff and Meg are my beta-ass-kickers. Ink and Thimbles are the sultanas in my oatmeal cookies. **

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, i'm slowly getting to the replies. **

**See you on Monday xx Wink**


	5. Five

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Twilight, but I do own a healthy love for Aussie summers and threadbare t-shirts.**  
**

* * *

**Five**

* * *

Working at Mint turns out to be pretty awesome. The work is easy, maybe a little physically tiring, but nothing I can't handle. The pay is pretty good too, and everyone is really fun and easy going. Plus, I get a free meal every time I do a shift. I get cheap beer and free soft drinks. And, I get to stare at all the pretty, tanned surfer boys – and get paid for it.

Mum's called every day since I left home. She always seems to find some ridiculously trivial reason to call, whether it's the dam flooding down the back of our property, or the sheep that got into the house. I'm pretty sure they're all excuses, but I indulge her anyway.

Jake's called once or twice too. I answered once, but after an hour long whinge-fest, in which he tried to get me to come home, I didn't make that mistake again.

Both Rose and I have just finished the lunch shift, when she corners me in the staff room.

"So, how's the wild oats thing working out for you?" My lack of love life seems to be one of her favourite things to talk about.

Pulling my hair out of its elastic, I shake it out, rubbing the sore spot where my ponytail has been all day. "Yeah, awesome. You can't get carpal tunnel from excessive masturbation though, right?"

She laughs, throwing her bag over her shoulder. "Dunno. I'll ask Jasper."

The sun is still high in the sky when we step outside. Squinting, Rosie slips her sunglasses on.

"What are you doing tonight?"

My lip curls as I screw up my nose. "Probably another fun filled Friday night at home with Mick and Jessie. We'll watch _Better Homes and Gardens_, or, if I'm lucky, the footy."

Rosie makes a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. "Sounds like fun."

I nod, gearing myself up for another early night in bed with a book.

"Wanna get some tea with me instead?"

I try not to jump at the chance; try to act cool and nonchalant. "Uhh - yeah, sure."

The idea of spending a night with Rose, instead of on the couch beside my Aunt and Uncle, is exciting. If I have to spend another Friday night listening to my uncle swearing at the TV, I swear, I'll fucking cut someone.

Offering me a change of clothes and somewhere to leave my work stuff, Rose takes me back to her place. She and her brother live just a street over from the beach, only a couple of minutes walk from Mint. The house is an eclectic mish-mash of furniture, both old and new, and there are splashes of Rose and Jasper all over the place, from the surfboards in the lounge room to the framed posters on the walls. With the all the windows in the house open, I can smell the freshly mown lawn next door, the hint of salty sea air, and the smell of a barbeque over the back fence somewhere. There's something about the organised chaos that makes me feel instantly comfortable, like I could curl up on the floral patterned sofa like a cat and fall asleep.

Rose lends me a singlet top and a skirt, and I'm surprised to find they both fit perfectly. It's always nice to have someone to steal – I mean, borrow – clothes from.

Rose and I got along well from our first night at Mint together. There is something inexplicable that's just clicked between us. Plus, she's the only other person I know who can quote _The Simpsons_ from memory. She's just so comfortable with who she is, and with her life. She's easy going, stress free, and doesn't make me feel like an outsider. It's really nice to have found someone like her so soon after moving here – having her around has made it that much easier to feel at home in Clearwater.

Jasper has actually turned out to be a pretty okay guy too. But he and Rosie couldn't be more different if they tried. I mean, as twins there are definite similarities between the two: the bright blue, almost azure coloured eyes, the award-winning smile and perfect straight teeth. And once you get to know them you start to notice the similar mannerisms; the way they speak, the body language, the short tempers. But really, it stops there.

The thing with Jasper is that at first he's cute and silly; kind of adorable in a brand new puppy kind of way. But the more time you spend with him, the more annoying and less puppy-like he becomes. Jasper knows this of course, and uses it to his advantage. The local girls know better, half of them have been there, or know about his rep. They know that beneath his ridiculous, cocky exterior – is a cocky, ridiculous idiot. But the tourist girls? Fuck. They love it. All they see is blue eyes and dark hair, the bad-boy piercings and tattoos, the kind of guy that looks hard on the outside, but inside, is actually a soft, sweet-hearted guy.

If only they could see him now, sitting on his sofa reading FHM, scratching his balls.

"Jasper!" admonishes Rosie. "We have company."

He looks up at me for a moment and then back down. "It's only Bella. It's not like she's the queen, hey?"

"Such a gentleman," I joke, shaking my head at him.

Jasper just smiles, getting back to his semi-naked ladies.

An hour or so later, Rosie and I are on our way out for some take-away, when the front screen door swings open, slamming against the frame loudly.

Edward stops short in the doorway to the lounge room, his face a picture of surprise.

Pulling his sunglasses off, he smiles, and there's a beat of silence, the crackle of attraction heavy in the air as he smirks at me.

"Well, well. Bella Swan."

"Edward Masen."

"Jasper Hale," says Jasper, tossing the magazine aside. "Now we're all reacquainted, can we go?"

"Unless you're gonna surf in your jocks you better change," says Edward, pointing to Jasper's severe lack of surf appropriate attire.

Jumping up off the sofa, Jasper hot-foots it into his bedroom to change.

With both he and Rosie elsewhere in the house, it leaves Edward and I alone. He seems happy to just stand there gawking at me, his arms crossed over his chest as I stand around feeling out of place.

His black baseball cap is low on his forehead, and his faded blue t-shirt is so thin and threadbare it looks like it might blow away in a strong wind. I can see the shape of his chest underneath it, see tiny pieces of skin through the holes in the neckline. Holes large enough to fit my finger through. Or my tongue.

I have to avert my eyes for a moment just to regain some composure.

The most frustrating part about it is that even in his shorts and t-shirt, I get the feeling Edward has no idea the effect he has on women. He can just turn up out of nowhere, barefoot and sparkly eyed, and just stand there like he isn't practically melting the underwear off all the women in a six foot radius. He's _completely_ oblivious, and for some reason, it makes him even more attractive.

Taking up Jasper's spot on the sofa, I pick up his magazine and start flicking through it while I wait for Rosie.

"Nice choice of reading material," says Edward, gesturing to my nudie magazine.

"I read it for the articles."

He smirks, letting it slide into a slow smile. "I bet."

We sit in silence for a moment, him leaning against the doorframe, tapping a beat against the wall, me, pretending to read an article called '10 Ways to Satisfy Your Woman In Bed'. Funnily enough, it does little to dispel the air of awkward sexual tension humming around me.

Pretending to look at my magazine, I chance a peek over the top of the page. He's trying to be discreet, but I can see him taking a long look at my bare legs. His bottom lip is pinched between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes lazily drifting up my leg, up my thigh, up my midsection...to my eyes.

I smile, raising an eyebrow.

"Get a good look, did you?"

He doesn't even seem embarrassed that he's just been caught ogling my legs. He just lets go of his lip and smiles at me. I don't know how he does it, but suddenly _I'm_ the one that's blushing instead of him. I suppress the urge to fan myself with the magazine.

Jasper returns moments later in hus wetsuit, his hair pulled back and a towel under his arm. "Come on then."

"Bye, Bella Swan," says Edward, slipping his sunglasses back on.

I slowly uncross my legs and recross them again, nice and slow. "Bye, Edward."

Shaking his head, he laughs all the way out the front door, his keys swinging around his index finger.

Watching from the front room, I see Jasper stick his board in the back of Edward's van. They both slip into the front and its engine rumbles loudly as Edward starts it, the music blaring out of the speakers so loud I can hear it from inside. I smile at his choice of song, adding good taste to his growing list of attributes.

* * *

Rose and I opt for fish and chips by the beach for dinner. A short way down the beach front is a wooden picnic table where we set up our dinner and watch the tide come in. This time of night is starting to be my favourite. The little sliver of time right before the sun begins to set, where the ocean calms and the beach empties. When the sky darkens slightly to a steel grey, the last rays of sunset slipping below the horizon.

"So, you going to tell me about this ex-boyfriend of yours?" asks Rose, picking at the left over chips.

Tugging the sleeves of my cardi over my hands, I sigh dramatically. "Are we at that stage? The whole sharing thing?"

"Says the woman wearing my clothes." She smiles. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Fiddling with the cap of the water bottle, I shrug. "It's not like it's some big secret. It's just not that big of a deal."

"So tell me then."

My memories of Jake aren't bad ones, they're not painful or angst ridden – they're just something I want to be able to move on from. I want to start fresh and not have to think about him moping around at home like a lost puppy, waiting for me to realise I've made a mistake and come crawling home. Clearwater is just the beginning of my plan to find some direction, to force myself to figure out what the fuck I want to do with the rest of my life. Bringing up old memories just feels like a step back.

"Jake and I grew up together, we used to swim in the dam at the back of our farm, and once, he pushed me off the front deck and I chipped my tooth." I tap my front tooth loudly.

Rosie makes a face. "Sounds like a catch."

"We were five."

She rolls her wrist, her hand moving in circles, gesturing for me to continue.

"Anyway, we were friends for ages, pretty much best friends. And then a while ago he professed his undying love for me."

I'm momentarily distracted as a bunch of guys, all carrying boards, make their way up the beach. The sunlight has well and truly disappeared, they've surfed the day until there's no light left, only to wake up and do it again when the sun reappears. To say I don't keep my eyes peeled for a head of bronze hair would be a lie.

"What do you say to that, you know?" I continue. "So we went out for a bit."

"How long's a bit?"

"A year and a half."

Her brows raise but she doesn't say anything.

"Anyway, one day he started talking about marriage like it was inevitable. Like we didn't really have a choice, like, I'm supposed to be happy being stuck in Forks forever. He said that's where my family and friends were, and why would I want to go anywhere else. And he was needy, _so_ fucking needy." Talking badly about Jake makes me feel wretched, a guilty stone settling deep in my stomach. "In the end, I knew I wanted something Jake couldn't give me, and so here I am; single, living with my aunt and uncle, with a bad case of masturbation induced RSI."

Rosie laughs. "Living the dream."

I sigh. Even though outwardly it might seem like I'd taken a step back, there was a sense of freedom I'd gained with my move. Like I was standing on the precipice of something big, just waiting for it to come along.

Rosie is quiet for a moment, picking a the paper from our fish and chips. "I guess that's not the kind of life every girl dreams of, huh?"

"Not me," I reply. "Not with Jake anyway."

With a big sigh, she scrunches up the paper and tosses it in the bin. "You're right, that is a boring story."

To some, Rosie's flippant attitude might seem a little harsh. But since sharing and feeling and doing all that emotional stuff is not really me, I'm happy to let the topic slide. Well, I'm happy to take the spotlight off of me anyway.

"So how come you don't have a boyfriend?" I ask, chucking my empty water bottle in the bin.

Rose rolls her eyes. "Have you seen the boys around here?"

Snorting, I nod. "Yes! And I repeat, where's your boyfriend? There are so many cute guys here."

It's almost dark, slivers of light fading quickly. But even in the dim light of the evening, I see a faint blush grace Rosie's cheeks. "There's just no one around here that does it for me, you know?"

"Uh-huh," I reply, not buying it.

She groans, throwing an arm over my shoulder. "Come on; let's go back to my place. The boys will be back and I feel like a drink."

She thinks I didn't catch her deflection, but I did. And I'll get to the bottom of it. But, lucky for her, now I'm a more nervous about whom she's referring to when she says "the boys", and whether or not said "boys" means Edward.

It'll be okay though, right? Me, Edward, beer, and copious amounts of sexual tension?

Right?

* * *

**Meg and Tiff beta'd this for me, and Thimbles and Ink pre-read - even though both of the latter have their own stories to write. They are in my favourites.**

**Thank you to everyone putting the story on alert, reading and reviewing. **

**xx Wink**


	6. Six

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a lamington tin and half a jar of Vegemite.  
**

* * *

**Six**

* * *

It feels like my insides are being whirred around in a blender; my stomach flip-flopping and gurgling, my blood beating too hard for my veins. I'm hungover, and I know it before I even open my eyes.

Slowly, I crack one eye open a little, shrinking away as the sunlight pouring in the bedroom window burns my poor delicate eyeballs. Scrunching them closed again, I groan slowly - even the rattle of my voice through my chest hurts.

"Morning, sunshine."

I sit up so quickly that my head spins and I lurch sideways, sliding off the bed and onto the floor with a thud, still tangled in the bed sheet.

Sitting on the bed, in what appears to be Rosie and Jasper's spare bedroom, is Edward. He laughs as I peer over the mattress at him.

"What the fuck?" I whisper, my voice throaty and mouth dry.

His chest is bare, his skin the colour of honey against the stark white wall behind him. Quickly checking myself under the sheet, I'm relieved to find I'm still mostly dressed. Well, sort of. I'm missing my pants, my bra and one sock.

"Why am I undressed? Why are you here? What the fuuuuuck?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Edward pouts dramatically. "You mean you don't remember anything?"

I swallow hard, trying to remember what happened the night before. From the taste in my mouth, I'm guessing there was bourbon, and from the pounding in my head, I'm thinking there was lots of it.

"Uh..."

He laughs, swinging his arms up behind his head. "I'm joking. You passed out at about midnight, after you and Rose thought drinking straight from the bottle was a good idea."

Groaning, I bury my face into the mattress as the contents of my stomach threatens to make an appearance. "Stop. Don't talk about it."

Chucking quietly, he rolls over onto his front, only inches from my head as I pout and moan. Even through my alcohol-induced illness, it's like my body is attuned to his presence. I'd never noticed it before, but he smells like salt water and sunshine, a hint of sunscreen and something sweet like coconut underneath. It's comforting, relaxing, surprisingly masculine and perfectly Edward.

"Wait a minute." I lift my head slowly, wincing as the room spins. "If I passed out, what are you doing in here?"

He shrugs, running a hand over the white fitted sheet, smoothing out a wrinkle. "Jasper and I got up ages ago, and then I got bored waiting."

"Ugh. What on earth possessed you to get up so early?"

"Went for a surf." He says it like it's the most normal thing in the world, like, _duh, Bella_.

"You surf every day?"

He nods, lifting his head and resting it in his hand. He's the picture of relaxed; sprawled out atop the clean white sheets, while I'm wrapped up like a freaking burrito on the floor.

With my head on the bed, I drift in and out of consciousness, still aware that Edward is right beside me.

"Are you watching me sleep?"

"What kind of a creep do you think I am?"

I don't reply, just nuzzle against the sheet again, trying to ignore the churn and gurgle in my stomach.

"Come on then," he says after a minute or so as he lifts himself out of bed.

Raising my head slowly, I peel my sleep heavy eyes open. His dark blue board shorts rest low on his hips, the defined cut of his lower abdomen making my head swim with all sorts of terrible, terrible thoughts.

"Go on without me," I whine, reaching out an arm as he slides off the bed. "Let me die in peace."

I can practically hear him roll his eyes. "Dramatic much? Get up."

"No," I moan.

"Yes."

"Nooooo."

"I'll make you a coffee if you get up now."

The idea of a strong black coffee is tempting.

"Really?"

"Yep."

Grunting in response, I nod and peel my head off of the sheet, wiping the drool off the corner of my mouth.

The worst thing about a bad hangover isn't the thumping headache, or the all consuming need to vomit; its that you only have yourself to blame. The best I can do is try to survive the day without throwing up in front of Edward, and then crawl into my own bed to sleep it off.

Edward watches from the doorway, offering no help as I search for my missing clothes, just an ever present knowing smile. Maybe if I hadn't been so hellbent on drinking my weight in bourbon, I might have been able to remember what he was smirking about.

"You've got five minutes, or I'm dragging you out by your little pink undies."

I scowl. "How do you know my undies are pink?"

He doesn't answer, just winks and closes the door behind him.

Oh, god. What have I done?

Emerging from the guest bedroom some time later, I find Jasper in the kitchen making toast while Edward boils the kettle. Both of their heads turn as I enter, and Edward grins while Jasper begins a slow, obnoxiously loud clap as he grins ear to ear.

"Bella Swan, everybody!"

"Shut up, Jasper," I snap, taking the cup of coffee from Edward's outstretched hand.

"I've never seen anyone drink as much as you two did last night. You've got balls."

I sigh as the hot coffee hits my empty stomach. I can almost feel it seeping into my bloodstream, calming my raw stomach and smothering the hangover shakes.

"I've got a fucking headache is what I've got."

A long, rattling groan rises from the sofa, and turning, I see Rosie, covered in a blanket, her face buried in the sofa cushions.

"Kill me," she rasps, lifting an arm and placing two fingers against her temple.

Jasper shakes his head. "You two are such sooks. Have a Gatorade and a bit of a spew, and you'll be right."

Talk of vomit has both Rose and I groaning.

Coffee in hand, I shuffle over to the sofa, sitting gingerly beside Rose on the soft,floral patterned cushions.

"Why, did we think trying to keep up with the boys would be a good idea?"

Buried face-first in the pillows, she shakes her head, her reply a muffled, "Fuck knows."

"I didn't…" I peer over the back of the sofa, watching the boys muck around in the kitchen. "Me and Edward, I mean…did we…"

"Uh-uh."

I sigh in relief, swishing the remains of my coffee around in the cup.

It's not that kissing Edward would have been a bad thing. In fact, if I were to be truthful, kissing Edward would have been fucking awesome. But I've been in Clearwater for all of five minutes, and the last thing I need is to be tied down to another small town. And who are we kidding - everyone knows kissing leads to sex, sex leads to relationships, and then next thing you know you're living in a small town, working two jobs to support a brood of bronze-haired, green-eyed rugrats.

Okay, so that's a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the idea.

Peeking over the back of the sofa again, I watch him and Jasper dicking around, smiling a little at the sound of his laughter. I wonder if I'm the kind of girl who could use someone like Edward. String him along for a while, take my fill of those smoochable lips and those pretty eyes, and then walk away. I really wish I was, because man, that guy is so fucking perfect it makes my head spin, but I'm not. I just don't have it in me to hurt someone so sweet.

Turning around again, I sigh, closing my eyes. Why is life so hard all the time?

Moments later, Edward appears at my side. "Toast?" he asks, a buttered piece hanging from his mouth.

Humming gratefully, I take the other piece as he sits down on the end of the couch, a few feet away.

Jasper pokes Rosie's head a few times, dodging her fists as she swings at him blindly from in the cushions.

"Fuck off, Jasper."

"Move then."

"Sit on the floor."

"You sit on the floor."

"I was here first."

"Feeling better?" asks Edward, watching me nibble on the edge of my toast as Rose and Jasper fight for a place on the sofa.

"A little. My head still hurts and I feel yucky, plus I'm kind of worried you snuck a peek at my undies. But other than that I'm fine."

Settling back into the couch, Edward grins, resting a hand on his flat stomach. "What? They're cute, with all the little strawberries on them."

"Oh my God!" I yell, slapping his arm with my free hand.

"Violent!" he jokes, rubbing his arm.

Having finally worked out their differences, Jasper sits at one end of the corner couch, while Rose sprawls out with her feet near his lap.

"Don't touch me with your nasty feet," he complains, slapping the bottom of her foot.

"Ouch! My feet aren't nasty, you dick."

Edward flicks TV channels, skipping between endless sports and old movies. Rose falls asleep again quickly, snoring softly beside me. Edward and Jasper take the time to fill me in on the night before and our antics. Apparently, I wasn't the drunkest, nor the most embarrassing. That prize went to Rose, which I guess is why she's sleeping off mild alcohol poisoning.

Burying myself deeper into the couch cushions, I tuck my knees under me as we watch 90's sitcom reruns and an old black and white movie.

Halfway through the movie, I spread out a little further, lying down with my head propped up on my hand.

By the end of the movie, I'm sprawled out – my feet near Rosie, and my head right beside Edward. I can hear him and Jasper talking quietly, like the soft hum of white noise as I doze in the afternoon sun.

I might be hungover, but in that moment, hung over as fuck and surrounded by new friends, I'm the happiest I've been in a while.

* * *

**Just a short one. Sorry for the cockblock. **

**Tiff and Meg, along with Thimbles and Ink are my #1 Team! GOOOO TEAM! Any and all errors are mine because I'm fiddly.**

**Thank you for reading x**


	7. Seven

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do, however, own idiotic friends and a stupid sense of humour.**

* * *

**Seven**

* * *

After that first night at Rosie's, I found myself there most weeknights and almost every weekend. Right in the centre of town, their little flat seemed to be the hub for their group of friends, the middle ground where everyone seemed to gather. If we weren't there, we were on the beach or at the pub. After just a month in Clearwater, I'd found myself becoming quite fond of the beach lifestyle; every day becoming more and more content.

I never contemplated making such good friends when I left Forks. Having spent my whole life in a small town, going through school with the same people, I thought I'd never make friends like that again. I mean, there's nothing like the friendship that comes with knowing someone since you used to run naked in their sprinklers. But, the relationships you make as you get older become less about who you _should_ be friends with - the popular kids, the neighbours, your cousins - and who you _want_ to be friends with. It becomes about easy silences and comfort, about "oh my god, you like that too?", and knowing how the other is feeling with a simple look.

I didn't think being around a bunch of smelly, rowdy, foul-mouthed boys would be so much fun, but it is. I mean, yeah, at first it was a little weird having so many boys around. But after a while you realise that just because they're guys, doesn't mean they all want to get in your pants. In fact, it's nice to have the kind friendships where I don't have to worry about what I'm wearing, or if it's in fashion, if they're going to talk about me behind my back, or if my hair is done the right way. Fuck, I could shave my head and call myself Barry for all they care.

Well, there is one exception to the rule. Edward bloody Masen.

My relationship with him is different than it is with the other boys. There is absolutely nothing platonic about the way he and I are around each other. Every time I see him, whether it's at work, at Rosie's, or down the beach, it's the same. There's that static-filled hum around us. I've never experienced it before and, to be honest, it's kind of unsettling. The moment he comes running up the beach, water dripping from his shorts, a smile plastered on his face, my heart pounds against my chest, leaping into my throat like it's trying to claw its way out and run across the sand to him.

There's just this nagging voice in my head that keeps reminding me that I just left a boyfriend in Forks. It happily reminds me that I broke Jake's heart and left him to pick up the pieces while I made a new life for myself somewhere else; that my whole reason for breaking up with him was that I felt smothered, like I'd been painted into a life that wasn't what I wanted.

So the fact is, that until I can figure out exactly what I want in life, I'm not ready to start something new. I'm not going to give in to Edward's charms, even if I really, really want to.

With my knees tucked up in front of me and my feet resting on the edge of the chair, I watch him from across the backyard, trying to carry four beers and a glass of coke for me. As we have for the past few nights, we're all sitting in Rose and Jasper's backyard, fairy lights tangled between the branches of a tree overheard, offering just enough light to see each other, but not enough to dim the glow of the moon; full and bright overhead.

Edward hands me my drink first, a beer bottle tucked under his chin, three more in his other hand. He still manages a smile for me though, and I accept the drink with a smile of my own. For a surfer, he makes a pretty good barman. There's only a touch of rum in my drink, its more coke than anything, but he knows that's the way I like it.

"We're playing truth or dare," says Rose, stretched out on her stomach on a banana lounge like she's in the sun.

Edward groans. "I'm not playing."

"Why?" I argue. "Chicken?"

Riles clucks like a chicken at him, flapping his arms like wings. Riley - or Riles – is quite possibly the tallest guy I've ever seen. He must push almost seven foot, and towers over all the other boys – even Edward who himself is over six foot. He never goes anywhere without his skateboard, and can burp the entire alphabet. I know, I saw him do it and almost spewed.

Dropping into a deck chair beside Jacko, Edward levels me with a cocky grin. "You wish, Swan. I'm not playing because I know all you fuckers," he says pointing to everyone but me. "And you guys have no secrets I don't already know."

There's a murmur of assent from everyone. I grin at him over the rim of my glass, before taking a sip. "I do."

Sighing, he sits back into his chair, his beer cradled in his hands in front of him.

"Just choose dare then, dickhead," says Jacko, breaking the silence and throwing a gumnut at Edward's head.

"Shut up." Edward tosses one back at him, and a gumnut war between the boys ensues until Riles accidentally falls backwards over his chair, making the rest of us laugh. Sometimes they think they're too cool; all beach hair and buff bodies. But get them alone together for more than five minutes and there's fart jokes and wrestling just like any other guys.

"You going to play or not?" urges Jasper.

Edward shakes his head. "Nah."

We all boo at him, throwing gumnuts, twigs and thongs, whatever's closest.

During the game, Riley runs a lap of the yard with his pants down, singing_ Old MacDonald._ Of course the boys make it harder by throwing empty beer bottles at him as he runs, which he dodges, laughing as they whizz past.

Jasper admits to fingering some girl called Kath behind the surf club. I don't even ask; I don't want to know who she is, or why Rose and the boys laugh at him so much.

I choose truth, and Rosie makes me explain my most awkward sexual experience, which involves the back of the 1986 Ford Meteor and a black eye. The boys think it's hilarious. Especially when I let it slip that the black eye was mine, not the boy's.

Rosie chickens out too and chooses truth. The boys all groan and take too long to think of a good question, so I jump in.

"Ummm, who was your first kiss?" It's a stupid question, but one I don't know the answer to.

She pauses, rolling her eyes. "Edward."

Of course I'm the only one who looks surprised. "What?"

Edward chuckles quietly. "We were fourteen."

"Was she _your_ first kiss?"

He rocks back on his plastic lawn chair. "Pfft – course not."

"Slut," snaps Rose, kicking her foot at the leg of his chair.

"No, that's your brother."

We all laugh, even Jasper. At least he owns up to it.

"Who was your first kiss?" asks Edward, letting his chair fall forward again, the motion sending a thatch of hair flopping over the front of his head. My fingers itch to reach forward and push it back.

Instead, I sip my drink, keeping my hands busy. "His name was Peter. He kept his eyes open the whole time, and I think I accidentally bit him. It was…disconcerting to say the least."

"Well, Edward practically gagged me with his tongue, so no one's first kiss is perfect, right?" says Rose.

"Hey!" objects Edward, his eyes wide. "I did not. I'm a great kisser."

I can't hide my smile as he pretends to look shocked and pouty.

"Uh-huh. Sure."

"Hey, if you want a demonstration I'd be more than willing." He goes so far as to lean across the small circle we've made, making loud kissy noises at me.

"No!" I squeal, pushing him back with my bare foot against his chest.

Laughing, he retreats, sinking back into his chair, a grin still plastered to his face. He's not stupid; he knows just as much as I do, that in fact I _would_ like to kiss him, but that I won't. We're like two magnets of the same polarity, always dancing around in circles; he pushes, I pull, and vice versa. It's tiring and confusing, and for some reason we both seem to be thriving on it.

"So were you each other's first time too?" I tease, gesturing between Rose and Edward. I'm not sure why I ask, or how I'd feel knowing that they'd slept together. On one hand, it's obvious there's nothing between them, but on the other – well – they would have had sex. Awkward teenage fumblings or not, it makes me just a tad jealous.

"God, no!"

"Fuck, no!"

They both make a disgusted face, and Rose pretends to vomit in her mouth.

After a while, the game becomes less truth or dare, and more truth or truth, since no one is willing to do any dares. I learn things about the boys I wish I didn't, and by the end I'm not sure if I can look at Jacko the same any more.

The game winds down, and it's after midnight before I make a move for home. Most of the guys have gone already, and Jasper is asleep on the banana lounge. Paul, Edward and I are left sitting in a loose circle, trying to ignore Jasper's window-rattling snore.

"I better go."

With my feet on the ground, I pull my arms up over my head, groaning into the long, languorous stretch.

"I'll walk you," says Edward, standing.

I pull up the zip on my jacket, flipping the hood over my head. "Don't be silly. I'll be fine."

"It's dark, and it's late. I'll walk you," answers Edward, tugging on the drawstrings of my hoodie.

Butterflies erupt deep in my stomach as I dig my hands into my jacket pockets, slipping my thongs back on. "'kay."

He smiles at me, sneaking a look at my legs, bare in my ever-present denim shorts.

"I'll come." Paul gets up out of his chair, tossing his empty beer bottle aside. "My place is on the way anyway."

Edward's hands find his hair as he looks back and forth between Paul and me for a moment. Obviously Paul doesn't realize he's a third wheel, even though Edward and I aren't…well, we aren't anything. Still, some one-on-one time with him would have been nice and Paul is completely oblivious to the fact.

I shrug, and resigned, Edward sighs. "Whatever."

The walk turns out not to be as awkward as I'd expected. The streets are quiet, as they always are at one in the morning, and the moon is so bright overhead that the streetlights seem dim in comparison. We stroll slowly down the middle of the street, the sound of our shoes scuffing the bitumen echoing around us.

We play _'Name That Song'_, failing miserably since Paul can't sing and is too drunk to remember half the words.

"You know, that song!"

"What song?" I laugh.

"That one," he urges, gesticulating wildly. Edward and I laugh.

"Hang on a sec, haven't we passed your house already?" asks Edward.

Paul stops short, looking around. "Fuck."

I half expect Edward to make some smart comment about us being alone, but he doesn't say a word and we continue on in silence. We're so close I can feel the heat radiating off his skin beside me, the warmth of his arm as it brushes against mine.

We're quiet all the way back to my place, but for some reason it's not awkward, just heavy.

As we near my house, my heart kicks into overdrive. I wonder if he's going to kiss me, and if he kisses me, if I'm going to kiss him back.

The main problem with my stubborn streak is that it only exists when Edward isn't around. I spend countless amounts of time telling myself not to pursue him, and not to let myself be pursued by him. I know that I should be keeping my distance, but when he's standing right in front of me, it's like it all just slips right out of my head and all I want to do is kiss him.

He taps the post beside the front gate. "This is your stop."

"Yep."

"You have a nice view," he says, gesturing to the beach across the road, the moon lighting the sea like a spotlight.

"You can't see the beach from your place?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, we're a few streets back."

"Oh. Well, thanks for walking me home."

The right side of his mouth lifts upwards first, the rest following slowly. "No worries."

"Uh-huh…night then."

I start towards the front gate but his hand reaches out, grasping the sleeve of my hoodie.

"Wait a sec."

Swallowing, I turn to face him, and he tugs on my sleeve gently, forcing me to step forward a little. He breathes a long, slow exhale as his other hand reaches up and pulls the hood off my head, letting it fall back.

"You're bit of a mystery, Bella Swan."

He doesn't come any closer, but I can feel his fingers, still wrapped around the material at my wrist, brushing against the back of my hand softly.

"Is that a bad thing?"

He shakes his head, and my stomach twists as he leans towards me slowly, _so, so slowly_. Even with my eyes closed I can feel him, the heat from his hand against mine, the smell of salt water and beer and fresh air. He's so close I can feel his hair tickle my forehead as he nods, and my whole body feels like it's shaking from the inside out.

"Nope," he says quietly. "I like mysteries."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh."

My tongue slips out to wet my bottom lip, and I can just feel the warmth of his breath on my lips, when a sudden gust of cool air makes my eyes pop open.

When I open my eyes, Edward is already stepping backwards, a sly grin on his face.

"Night, Bella."

His fingers let go of my sleeve and I'm left, wobbly-kneed and trembling on the side of the road.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I watch him disappear over the road and onto the beach where he begins the walk home.

That fucker.

Game. Fucking. On.


	8. Eight

**Oh dear. Yes, sorry for the week-long hiatus. I ran out of beta'd chapters, and trust me, you don't want unbetad mess.  
**

**Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. SaltyBoy belongs to me.  
**

* * *

**Eight**

* * *

"Just a little bit further."

The salt water swirls around my hips, each lap of the waves making me gasp. How on earth is it so hot outside, yet so freakin' cold in the water? I take a big step forward, shrieking as something soft and slimy touches my calf.

Fucking seaweed.

Rosie is a few feet in front of me, Riles out a little further, sitting on his board watching.

"Come on, Bella!" he yells as a wave rolls under his board, lifting him up and down smoothly. I hold my breath as it nears me, my arms flying in the air as the water laps up around my boobs.

"It's fucking freezing!"

Rosie laughs. "It's nice once you're in for a bit. Just put your head under!"

Flapping my hands around above my head, I bob around in the water from foot to foot, trying to get away from the seaweed. I've never been any deeper than this, and every time something touches my leg I freak out, looking for sharks and jellyfish and stone fish and every other sea-dwelling harbinger of death I've read about.

Rosie swims toward me, her hair floating in the water behind her as she ducks under a wave. She's like a real life version of Ariel, minus the tail. Whether on her board or swimming, she's powerful but graceful at the same time, looking more comfortable here than she does anywhere else.

"Come on," she says reaching for my hand.

Squealing quietly, I reach for her, moving forward until suddenly the sand seems to drop away and I'm chin deep in water. Of course, I let out an embarrassingly loud shriek, copping a mouth full of salt water in the process. I can hear Riley laughing as Rosie appears beside me.

"You okay?" she chuckles. "I forgot there's a drop in the sand bar right there."

Pumping my legs to keep myself afloat, I nod. "I just had a fucking heart attack, Rosie, but yeah."

Riley's board appears over the next wave, his arms paddling at its sides. "You good?"

"Yeah."

We tread water for a few minutes, my teeth chattering loudly, but when something decidedly fishy brushes up against me, I bail out. Rose follows me, and we're both laughing loudly by the time I reach the shallow water. I feel like such a princess, freaking out over a tiny fish. As we wade out of the waist deep water, I make a pact to myself to stop being such a baby. Hundreds of people, children included, swim at this beach every day, why can't I? Of course, as I make that promise to myself, a huge wave crashes over Rose and I, and I get dunked from behind, sending me face-first into the water. When I emerge, coughing and spluttering, Rose is laughing even harder, her face pink from exertion.

"Don't laugh! I could have died!"

She cackles, clutching her stomach.

I pout, wading to where the water just hits my knees. "Could have got trapped in a rip and carried out to sea never to be seen again."

"Nice stack, Swan."

Aflame with embarrassment, I turn to see Edward splashing into the water, his board tucked under his arm, wetsuit clinging to every toned muscle in his body.

"Shut up!" I reply, splashing him. "I wasn't ready."

He splashes me back, smiling. "Riles out there already?" he asks Rosie. She nods, and they dive into surf-speak - which is like Klingon to me. As he's talking to Rose, Edward's eyes keep drifting back to me over her shoulder. I feel weird standing there while they talk about breaklines and A-frames, but he just keeps looking at me, and I'm not sure what to do with my hands as they hang there, limp at my side. I try to keep up with the conversation, but apart from the fact that I don't know what they're talking about, I can't concentrate on anything when Edward is looking at me like he is; all smirky-smirk and bright sea-blue eyes, probably remembering our almost-not-kiss.

Two teenagers bound into the surf a few metres away, boogie boards out in front of them as they dive for the waves, the foam boards skidding across the water. It looks like so much fun, the way the water catches the board and propels it forward all the way up the beach. Surfing is one thing, but boogie boarding looks like something I might actually be able to master without, a) drowning, or b) making a complete ass of myself.

"So anyway, I'll catch you round, yeah?" Edward's voice catches my attention again, and when I turn he's looking at me, grinning stupidly.

"Um, yeah, cool."

_Smooth._

He brushes past startlingly close, so close I can almost feel the heat radiating from his skin.

"Nice bathers," he says quietly as he passes, his eyes slipping up and down my body once before he turns for the surf.

"Weird," I whisper, trying to keep a lid on my fluttering stomach.

"Oh, shit!" gasps Rose as she reaches over and pulls my bikini top over, covering me up. "You must have slipped a nip when you got dumped."

Realisation dawns on me and my entire body flushes. "You mean I've been standing there in front of Edward with my nipple hanging out the whole time?"

She cringes, nodding.

I take a slow, deep breath, exhaling. "No wonder he was looking at me weird."

I'm absolutely mortified, but at the same time I almost want to laugh. He almost, not-quite kisses me and I flash him my nipple. Payback's a bitch.

"Don't stress, babe. It's probably the only nip Edward's seen in yonks, he won't know what to do with himself."

"Ugh. He's going to tell the boys and they're never going to let me live it down."

"Fuck the boys," says Rosie as we flop down onto our sun-warmed towels. "You've just filled Edward's spank-bank for months; he'll be keeping that shit to himself."

We both break into giggles again, and I'm grateful for Rosie's distraction as the embarrassment of my wardrobe malfunction ebbs away.

"Maybe you need a new bikini though," she says, tightening the knot of my bathers behind my neck. "Something to keep those little raisins covered."

"Hey!" I cover my boobs with my hands. "They're not raisins – they're…just…" I look down at my less than ample breasts, "Yeah, they're like bee-stings, right?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Girl, if I could get away with those little string bikinis I would. Embrace your tiny titties."

"Maybe I'll ask Edward what he thinks, since he's basically seen them."

Rosie laughs. "He's probably out there trying to hide a raging boner right now."

* * *

I don't know why I thought shopping with Aunt Jessie would be a good idea. I'm a twenty-four year old girl, and I can't shop the way she does. She's like the fucking Terminator of malls; she just keeps going and going, and I don't have the molten metal around to make her stop. By the end of the morning my feet are aching and my hands are sore from carrying all my bags.

"We'll just try one more shop," she says, trying to placate me. "Jetty Surf will have something you like."

Oh yeah, the other downfall of shopping; not finding what you want. Every pair of bathers I've picked up have frills or beads, or some ridiculous top that flaps around like two deflated ball bags over my boobs. I just want plain bathers, something to cover my chest and ass without making me look like a six-year-old. And of course, _Jetty Surf_ doesn't have anything I like either. Although, by the time Jessie has tried on eighty-five different dresses in sixty different colours, I'm just ready to get the fuck away from her.

Finally, we pile our stuff into the car and head home, where I plan to stomp around and sulk about my lack of luck in the bather's department.

But no.

"Why are we stopping?"

_No! No stopping! I want to go home!_

"Just try Aerial Surf, five minutes, I promise."

I contemplate how long it would take me to drag Aunt Jessie's lifeless body across the road to the main beach, but decide there are too many witnesses around, and I'm too pretty to go to jail.

Groaning, I opening the car door. "Fine."

Aerial Surf is Clearwater's biggest surf store, and sits on the main street overlooking the beach. I've seen it a heap, been past a few times, checked out the clothes in the window, but never actually been in. I flick through a rack of dresses, trying to hide from Jessie as she digs through a table of discounted winter jumpers. There's something about the store that seems more casual than the others we've been in today. The walls are covered with surf posters and memorabilia, trophies and banners from the surf lifesaving club, framed photos and broken surfboards. And almost immediately I notice that there isn't an annoying sales girl in my face, bugging me about sizes or sales, or buy one get one half price on this rack only. I look around suspiciously, noticing a few other people browsing, but no sales people to be found.

A roar of laughter and cheers rises up from somewhere in the store and I decide to have a sticky to find out what's going on.

Behind the long, glass-topped front desk are all the staff, leaning against the counter, watching a surfing video on one of the flat screen TV's. And in the centre, with his arms crossed over his chest, a white t-shirt straining across his broad shoulders – is Edward.

Making sure my nipples are secured in my top, I stroll over.

"Working hard, or hardly working?"

He turns, and smiles brightly, his eyes flickering to my chest for a split second. When I give him the finger, he realises he's been caught and starts laughing, holding his hands up in defence. "Sorry."

"You ass!" I slap him on the arm with my purse. "I didn't know you worked here."

Explains all the surf brand t-shirts, I guess.

He shrugs. "Just when they need help." Still grinning, because let's face it, the guy can't seem to do anything else, he leans forward, his elbows on the counter. "What are you doing? Shopping?"

I nod, jerking my thumb over my shoulder at Jessie.

Edward looks around and winces. "Ooh, ouch. She's a handful your Aunt Jessie."

"A handful!" I lean my hip against the desk. "She keeps poking her head in while I'm getting changed. The woman has serious boundary issues."

"Tell me about it. Who do you think fitted her for a wetsuit?"

_Oh, gross. Mental images of Jessie in a skin-tight wetsuit._

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. It was..." Edward shudders dramatically. "Hey, you don't need a wetsuit fitted do you? Cos I've got time." He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

"No. I just need regular bathers. Preferably something without ruffles, that actually covers my ass and keeps my boobs in."

Edward opens his mouth to make a smart comment, but my raised brow stops him, and he closes it with a snap.

I sigh, frustrated.

"Ugh, okay," moans Edward. "Come on."

He takes my hand over the counter and leads me to the back of the store into a staff only area. I stop short, my hand still in his.

"I'm not pashing you in a store room, Edward."

He rolls his eyes. "Don't kid yourself, Swan, you'd do it in a heartbeat." This time it's his turn to cut off my smart remark. "But, that's not what we're here for."

Opening the door, he flicks on a light and begins rummaging through boxes. "Here," he says, pointing to a huge box. "This is all the new stuff. Have a dig through if you want, see if there's something you like."

"What? Really? Are you allowed to do that?"

"That's the perks of owning the store."

My eyebrows almost fall off the top of my head. "You own this place?"

He shrugs. "My Dad does, I just help out."

"Oh."

" Just give me a yell if you need help with fitting, or getting your clothes off," he says. "I'd be happy to help."

It's my turn to smirk. "I bet you're pretty good at getting girls' clothes off."

"I've done it a time or two," he deadpans.

He stands there, texting on his phone while I bend over to dig through a box of new season bathers.

"Stop looking at my ass."

"I'm not looking at your ass."

"Whatever, I can feel you looking me."

"I can't help it. You've got such pretty stems!"

"Stems?" I chuckle. "Is this store room in a time warp? Is it 1960?"

"Whatever, you need to learn to take a compliment, woman."

"Woman!" I toss a bikini top at him and he catches it, holding it to his chest.

"Nah, not really my colour."

We both laugh as I snatch it back. "Just hold it while I find the bottoms, idiot."

"Nice choice," he says, eying the piece appreciatively.

I'm glad my head is stuck half way in a box so he can't see my face almost split in two from my smile. Moments like this are half the reason I'm so attracted to Edward. He's good looking, yes, but he's also one of the sweetest, kindest, most loyal people I've met. Watching him and the boys interact, I can tell he would do anything for those guys, no matter how big or small. Need a hand moving house? Edward will help. Need to borrow fifty bucks? Edward will lend it to you. Need a pair of bathers because you're a picky bitch with tiny boobs? Edward will let you into the staff room so you can rummage around a box of brand new bathers. It's not often you find someone who is as genuine as he is, and every day I get to see more and more of him, every day liking what I see more.

"Done?" he asks.

I nod, holding up my lovely new bathers.

"You don't want help trying them on?" he asks, holding out his hands like he's about to grab my boobs.

With a laugh, I step back. "No, they'll fit just fine, thank you."

"Well," he says shaking his head wryly. "We have a no returns policy, so it's your call."

"If they don't fit I'll just have to come back and bug you some more then," I reply, smiling.

He holds the door open for me and turns the light off in the storeroom. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

***Yonks** - ages/a long time

***A "sticky"** - short for "A sticky beak" - meaning either someone who doesn't mind their own business, or, "having a sticky" which means having a look around

*** Pashing** - kissing

*** Seaweed** - I fucking hate it. I do.

* * *

**Thank you to Tiff for the quick beta, and to Meg - wherever you are. And to Thimbles and Ink for the support. xx**

**Thank you also to everyone reading, and for those of you dropping me a review :)**


	9. Nine

**Disclaimer: Meyer owns Twilight, lucky duck. I just own Chet Faker's EP which helped me a lot with this chapter.**

* * *

**Nine**

* * *

In some strange twist of fate, Rosie, Jasper and I all score the same weekend off, and decide to make the most of it with a day on the beach. With the peak season quickly approaching, the main beach is slowly getting busier. Every day there are less car spaces and more tourists around. It doesn't particularly bother me, but for Edward and the boys it means less space on the waves, and more inexperienced surfers – or _kooks_ as the boys call them - in the water. So, in the interest of the boy's sanity, and to let me explore some of the little inlets and beaches along the coast, we all pile into Edward's van and set off for Bird Rock. It's a tight squeeze; me, Riles, Jacko and Rose in the back, sitting amongst the surfboards and gear, holding onto the seats as Edward rounds the corners in his bright yellow combi van, with Jasper riding shotgun.

Luckily the drive doesn't take long, and before I know it, we've pulled over and the boys are all jumping out. They're like overgrown puppies, all a mess of excitement as they pull out their boards and suits. Rosie slips her wetsuit on first, and grabs her beach bag before booking it down the stairs to the beach.

"Tasty!" says Jas, rubbing his hands together as he watches the waves roll in. The beach seems wilder here, more untamed than the smooth, rolling waves of Clearwater. At Bird Rock you can hear the waves roar, hear them smash against the water, the noise echoing off the high cliffs on either side. There is not another soul on the beach, no cars, no people with dogs, just an ugly yellow combi and a gaggle of boys.

"A pineapple says you get axed like last time," teases Edward, reaching behind his head to pull his shirt off. I busy myself applying sunscreen to my arms, trying not to look too hard.

"Fuck you," snaps Jasper, snapping his leg strap at Edward. They argue as Jacko and Riles head off for the water.

Pulling my dress up over my head, I shove it in my bag and pull out my magazine and iPod.

Jacko's already half way down the sandy steps, almost running. "Come on, ya ball bags!"

With a couple of playful shoves, Jasper and Edward follow, but not before Edward leans close on his way past, snapping the string of my bikini top.

"Cute," he says with a grin.

The boys are already suited up and paddling out by the time I get down onto the beach. Rose is still on the sand though, her board in front of her as she rubs wax over it.

"Huh, I've always wondered what those little combs on board shorts are for."

Turning the little blue comb over, she runs it over her surfboard, scratching the surface.

"Doesn't it scratch the board up?"

She nods. "That's what it's for. It roughs up the wax so you don't slip off the board."

"Makes sense."

Picking up the lump of soft wax, I turn it over in my hand. It smells like bees wax with a hint of coconut, and instantly I realise this is the other thing I smell on Edward. Then I realise I'm sniffing a lump of wax and daydreaming about a boy. Carefully, I place the wax back on the sand in its wrapper, and turn to unfold my towel.

"You gonna come out today?" asks Rosie, even though she knows the answer. She's been bugging me about learning to surf lately, and while it would be nice to be out there with them rather than on the beach by myself, there's just something not right about letting the sea take me where it wants, of not being able to see what's swimming, growing, lurking in the shadows at my feet. For the moment, I'm happy to wade into the shallow water and make the most of the sun before it gets too hot.

I'm about to reply as an especially big wave crests, before roaring down the beach, foam and white water rumbling towards the sand.

I give her a look and she nods in agreement. "Yeah, maybe another day."

Rosie sits beside me for a little while, her wetsuit around her slim waist, her long hair draped over her shoulders like a curtain of honey coloured silk. We watch the boys bobbing out the back past the breakers, watching them vie for the biggest barrels and the best waves. A particularly big wave rolls in, and this time I see Edward and Riles catch it - Edward visible on his colourful, custom made board. They both paddle furiously as the wave rolls up behind them, and at almost the same time they pop up like its effortless, keeping low on their boards as the wave propels them forward.

Edward makes it all look so easy, like the deck is an extension of his feet, the water just a little bump rather than tonnes of salty ocean thrashing around him. He speeds through the water like it's the easiest thing in the world; his arms out for balance, his knees bent as he shifts the board beneath him. My heart skips a beat as he launches himself over the top of a wave, the deck tucked into his hand as he soars six feet in the air.

In a moment of terror, my heart stops beating, clenching in my chest painfully as he twists in the air, coming down at the wrong angle and crashing into the wave, disappearing into a foam of frothy white water.

"Oh my god!"

"He's fine," assures Rose as she wraps the leg strap around her ankle. "His game's a bit off, but he's fine."

It feels like my heart is in my mouth it's beating so hard.

"See?" She points to the right of where I thought he was, and there he is, paddling into the shallow water.

I curse under my breath, relaxing back onto my towel as he starts up the beach towards us, coughing and blowing water out of his nose.

"You right?" asks Rosie, frowning.

"Yeah, just knackered," he puffs, dropping onto the sand beside me, droplets of water sprinkling my legs and stomach.

"You coming back out?"

"Yeah, yeah," he says. "I'll be out in a sec."

Rose looks confused, but shrugs it off. "You right, B?"

I nod, holding up my iPod and magazine. With a smile, she starts for the water, throwing Edward another strange look over her shoulder.

Resting my magazine on my chest, I lift my head from my towel a little.

"Is that what you call "eating it"?"

Even in profile I can see his eyes crinkle as he smiles. "Yeah. That's eating it."

Smirking, I pick up my magazine again - not that I'm actually going to be able to concentrate with Edward beside me.

"Finally getting a bit of a tan on that pasty skin of yours," says Edward, looking down at me from his seat in the sand.

I look down at my legs, wiggling my toes. "Yep. Next stop; skin cancer."

Picking up the earphone not dangling from my ear with his damp fingers, Edward puts it up to his ear and smiles. "Nice choice."

"You're a fan?" Shielding my eyes from the sun, I look up him.

He nods gently. "I am."

Impressed, I nod. I don't have the guts to tell him that every song on the EP reminds me of him; that the smooth, relaxed bass line reminds me of his lazy smile, and the way that today, with the dark scruff on his jaw line, my beating pulse and sweaty palms are all his doing.

_Got to take it off my mind,_ says the deep, honeyed voice in my ear. And I try my best, taking a deep lungful of salt-scented air.

I watch from behind dark sunglasses as Edward reaches back and unzips his suit waist, pulling his arms through the thick neoprene material with a wet thwack that sends a shower of water droplets over my bare stomach. He laughs as I slap him playfully, and immediately I notice that for once his skin isn't warm the way it usually is. The water must be cold, because even though he was covered by a wetsuit, his skin is still icy to the touch, my fingers damp and cool where they met his arm. It's nice; the way his body is radiating coolness beside me, my sun-heated skin itching to be closer, to be soothed by his.

He settles back into the sand again; his bare back to me as he watches the waves. We sit in silence, me skimming my magazine, him watching the water. With his elbows on his knees, Edward twists his fingers together, bending them back and forth like he's nervous - a big ball of tension beside me.

Lifting myself up onto my elbows, I slip my sunglasses up on my head. "You okay? You look..."

I'm not quite sure when it happens, but one moment I'm talking; the next, Edward is leaning over me, inches from my face, about to kiss me. His lips are so close I can almost taste them, a startling tingling zipping through them as his clear blue-grey eyes pierce my brown. My breath catches in my throat as, with one last look at my mouth, he leans forward and presses his lips to mine.

It's soft and slow and just a little bit perfect.

He pulls back a little, his mouth still centimetres from mine.

"Oh."

It's all I can think to say. Although, I'm not sure if it's actually a word or a sound; like a little squeak in the back of my throat.

"Yeah."

We both take a breath, his fingers gripping my hip lightly.

"So, that's it?"

His head cocks to one side a little, his mouth following suit. "What?"

"Well, I thought you said you were a great kisser. That was…well…it was alright."

"Alright?" he scoffs.

"Yeah, I mean, it was _good_. But not _that_ good."

"I was unprepared," he argues. "The sand is…and I'm sitting funny."

I nod, rolling my eyes playfully. "Riiight."

Looking determined, Edward leans forward again, adjusting his position so that I have to lie back on my towel again as he hovers over me.

"I'll show you."

We smile until there's no more room to smile, until our lips meet again and there's something more important to do with them. He tastes like salt water and his lips are cool against mine, his warm mouth a perfect contrast as our kisses intensify. My hands slide up his arm, over his bicep and shoulder, his muscles flexing as he holds himself above me. For a moment even the sound of the waves, as loud as they are, slip away, and all I can hear is the _thump-thump_ing of my heart, and the sound of my lips against Edward's. I can feel the water dripping from his hair, fat drops of cold water running down my hair line making me shiver, goosebumps covering my arms and neck.

With a sigh, Edward rests his forehead on mine.

I blink a few times, tucking my lip between my teeth, tasting the salt from his lips.

"Well, that was unexpected."

"Yeah, sorry," he says, sitting back. "Normally I'm much smoother, but I've wanted to do that for ages, and I couldn't fucking concentrate out there until I did."

"And now you can?"

He drops his head, smiling. "Yeah, I didn't really think it through."

Not going to lie; the idea that he thinks of me that much, enough to put him off his game, is emboldening. Flirting aside, it's nice to know I'm not the only one afflicted by a crushing preoccupation when we're around each other.

"If it's any consolation, you _are_ a good kisser."

A smirk spreads across his kissed-pink lips. "I know."

I smack him with my magazine and he laughs. Almost instantly it's like a weight has been lifted; that tangible buzz of anticipation between us settling low and deep, like a steady thrum.

As much as I would have liked him to, Edward doesn't stick around to spend time smooching in the sand; he's back in the water in a matter of minutes, like he couldn't surf properly without kissing me, and then couldn't sit there any longer once he did. I spend an hour or so flipping idly through my iPod, basking in the sun's warmth. Sighing deeply, I lay my head down just for a second, touching my fingers to my lips as I replay our kiss over and over; his cool damp fingers in my hair, the taste of the ocean on his lips….

I yelp, flip-flopping in the sand like a fish as fat drops of cold water spray my back and legs. "What the fuck?!"

Turning over, I find Jasper standing over me, shaking his wet hair over me as the others stroll up the beach behind him.

"You got my bum all wet, you dickhead!" I yell, swatting at his ankles.

Riles and Jacko dump their boards on the sand beside me, and I watch Rose and Edward do the same.

"We've been here for ages and you haven't even got wet!" argues Jacko, flipping his wet hair out of his eyes.

"I dunno," says Jasper, bending over me with a smirk on his face. "Edward finally pulled the moves so I bet she got a little wet."

The boys think it's hysterical, and while Edward just ignores Jasper, I jump up and chase him around as he cackles wildly. While Jasper is quick on his feet, I have the advantage of being a little more nimble than him over the hot sand. He screams like a girl as I attach myself to his back like a spider monkey, reaching over his shoulders to give him a nipple cripple.

"Apologise!" I yell as he swats at my hands.

"Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" he squeals, sighing and rubbing his nipples after I let them go.

I make the stupid assumption that I'm safe and only make it half way back to my towel before I'm scooped up from behind, the wind rushing out of my lungs as Jasper throws me over his shoulder.

Screaming and kicking my legs, I flail wildly.

"Time to get wet!" he yells, slapping me on the ass, making me shriek.

"No!" I wail, reaching for Rosie or Edward or someone to help me.

It's no use. Rosie is beside herself, clutching her stomach as Jasper strolls down the beach with me over his shoulder like a sack of freaking potatoes. The water laps up around his ankles, and before I can fight back, I'm airborne before splashing into the frigid ocean. Salty water rushes up my nose, stinging my eyes and nostrils as it floods my mouth. Coughing and spluttering, I lift myself out of the water and, bedraggled and soaking wet, chase Jasper back up the beach where an all out water fight begins. There's screaming and laughing and splashing, and the boys dunk each other and splash Rosie and I until we're all water-logged and spent. Needless to say my brand new bathers withstand the test a little better, and there are no nip-slips this time.

Edward lets me ride shotgun on the way home, his hand resting on the gear stick between us, the dusting of golden blonde hair on his arm lit by the sun. I kind of want to run my fingers up the back of his hand, feel the tendons as they flex, feel the shift of the muscles in his forearm as he changes gears. Instead, I put my hand out the window, watching as it cuts through the air like a leaf on the wind – just the slightest movement making my whole arm rise and fall, swooping through the air.

Since we come into town up my end, Edward drops me off first.

"Jessie got any of those vanilla slices left?" asks Jacko, leaning over from the back seat.

"Nup." I shake my head, peering over the seat at the rest of them in the back. "Later, guys. I'll message you later, Rose?" She nods; her hair bouncy-curly from the water.

Taking a little longer than necessary, I slip my thongs back on and make sure everything is packed in my beach bag.

"So…thanks. For the ride home."

"No worries."

Edward smiles, one hand still on the gear stick, the other resting on the steering wheel as the van idles. I would really, really, really, like to lean over and kiss that stupid cocky look off his face, maybe throw a leg over and run my fingers over his sun-bronzed skin, but a chorus of kissing noises and giggles from the back of the van puts a stop to those thoughts.

"Right, well, see ya."

"Bye."

The van is noisy as it chugs off up my street, the bright yellow paint almost neon in the sunlight.

Dumping all my stuff in my bedroom, I slip into the shower to wash the sand and salt off my skin.

Standing in front of the mirror as the bathroom begins to steam up, I marvel a little at the small changes in my appearance.

Apart from the puppy-love-just-kissed sparkle in my eye, my hair is lighter, almost visibly so. The ends are almost a honey colour, my fringe overgrown and sticking up in every direction from the salt water. My skin is darkening slowly, faint freckles dotting the tops of my collarbones and the bridge of my nose. I look water-logged and wind-blown, summer-kissed and sun-warmed.

It looks like beach life suits me after all.

* * *

**Pineapple - **Another name for a fifty dollar note since they're bright yellow.

**Vanilla Slice - **I'm sure you guys have vanilla slice in some shape or form. It's just flaky pastry with a big slab of fira, set custard on top, with more pastry on top and some icing. Jsyk - the town I live in have the best Vanilla Slice in the country. fact.

* * *

**Endless thanks to Tiff, and to Thimbles and Inky - my cheer squad. Chat Faker is on YouTube. Anything from his EP 'Terms and Conditions' is good. _'Love and Feeling'_ was a big help. **


	10. Ten

**Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to SMeyer, Edward's bad grammar belongs to me.**

* * *

**Ten**

* * *

I've always been a light sleeper, so when my phone goes off in the middle of the night I almost shoot out of bed, scrambling for the bright yellow light in the dark. With one eye peeled open a little, I squint at the screen, holding it up a few inches from my face.

A new message from an unknown number.

Wrenching my other eye open, I slide my finger across the screen to unlock it.

**Nice curtins**

I have to blink the sleep out of my eyes a few times.

**Yeah. Thanks. Who's this?**

**Edward**

_Oh, shit._ I sit bolt upright in bed, clutching my cotton sheets to my chest.

**Are you outside my house?**

**Maybe**

Almost tripping over my own feet and the piles of clothes on the floor, I run to my window. I feel like fucking Juliet as I pull the window up, wincing as the old wood creaks and the glass rattles. Leaning out of my bedroom window, I see him, spotlighted under the street light in front of my house.

**U comin or not.**

I roll my eyes at his crappy text spelling and lack of punctuation.

**Let me get dressed.**

Picking up a crinkled sundress from my floor, I sniff it then throw it over my head, wriggling out of my pajama shorts. Barefoot, I tiptoe past Mick and Jessie's bedroom, and for once, I'm glad Mick has a snore that could rattle the house foundations.

The night is balmy and the concrete path under my feet is still warm from the heat of the day. Pushing the front gate open, I step out onto the sidewalk, watching, as grinning smugly, Edward sidles up beside me. He's still in his clothes from earlier that day, and the sight of him reminds me of our kiss, short and sweet as it was.

The night air smells heavily of jasmine and honeysuckle, the humidity lingering in the air accentuating the lush, earthy smell of the front garden, and of the beach across the road.

"You spend your nights lurking outside girls' bedrooms much?"

Edward lifts his eyebrows, his grin widening. "Only the cute ones."

I scoff at his lame but cute response. He's silly-smooth and he knows it.

"So is there a reason you're standing outside my house at midnight on a weekday?"

He thinks about it for a moment, his blue eyes glinting in the dark. My mind wanders back to the first time I met him, all cocky and self-assured. He seems so different now; quiet, pensive, thoughtful.

"I couldn't sleep," he answers finally.

"So you thought you'd come and wake me up and we could both be awake?"

"Uh-huh."

Digging his hands deep into his pockets, he turns toward the beach, and then looks back at me. "Wanna go for a walk?"

I glance back at the house, the windows dark and silent.

Fuck it. I'm an adult.

"Sure."

He doesn't take my hand, or link my arm with his – Christ, this isn't a Jane Austen novel. But he walks slowly beside me as I pick my way across the road in bare feet. The most I get is his hands on my hips as he directs me past some broken glass on the side of the road. Even the touch of his hands, warm through the thin cotton of my dress, sends waves of goosebumps up the back of my neck.

Without the noise of the road or the squabble of seagulls, the beach is silent except for the waves. I can hear them, smell them, feel the wind rushing off of them – but in the dark, with only the moon above us for light – I can barely see six feet in front of my face.

Edward is quiet, his thongs kicking up sand as we walk down onto the beach slowly. Already he seems more comfortable, like being so close to the water has a calming effect on him. On the beach, he's relaxed, playful almost as he kicks sand at me, dodging my returning spray. We're mucking around, paddling in the toe-deep water, when his fingers wrap around my wrist gently, our laughter quieting before he ducks down to kiss me. The water laps around my ankles, the sand soft and squishy under my feet. All I can think about is that I probably have sleep-breath and that my nipples are about to rip a hole in my favourite sun dress.

Leaving me a little breathless and stunned, he's silent as he leads me back up the beach to the dry sand, where he flops down gracefully, pulling me down beside him.

I tuck my feet up under my butt, my side pressed to his. "You're all about the ninja kisses."

Settling back into the sand, Edward leans over and tugs me gently until I'm straddling his lap.

"Would you rather I asked you next time?"

His mouth opens a little, and he sighs quietly as I brush my fingers across his brow, lifting his hair from his forehead.

"No. I'd just like to be prepared next time is all."

He bends his knees up behind me, and with my back pressed against his legs and my knees in the sand, his hands skim my outer thighs softly.

"Are you ready now?" he asks, and I can feel his breath across my collarbone; steady as his fingers find their way up and under my dress and around the soft flesh of my hips.

Nodding, I hear him swallow as he looks up at me, his eyes locked on my lips as I lean down to kiss him gently. The touch of my mouth against his sends jolts of electricity skittering across my skin, and my entire body relaxes into his, moulding to his shape.

There's something in the way he kisses me. I don't know what it is, but it feels different, makes _me_ feel different. I've never been kissed in a way that can light my whole body on fire from toes to fingertips. I've never been kissed by someone who can make me feel sexy and wanted just with the touch of his lips. My body has never responded the way it does around Edward. But then, I've never been kissed by someone like Edward.

His hands grasp my hips gently, before sliding back down my thighs and up again. Although the night is warm, his movements cause an eruption of goosebumps; a shiver up my spine.

Breathing deeply, his nose skims the side of my neck, dipping into the hollow of my collarbone. Mumbling something quietly, he kisses his way across my décolletage and back up my neck, over my chin, to my lips. His shoulders are lean and wiry beneath my hands, all angles and hard bone. But underneath that I can feel the strength he holds in his sinewy body; the powerful muscles built by years of swimming and paddling. Slipping my fingers under the collar of his t-shirt, I wrap my hands around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. With a thump, he falls backwards into the sand with me still atop his lap.

As we kiss, there are moments when I can feel him burning beneath me, when his hands will wander and his kisses intensify. But right when I think he's going to do something, as his fingers skim the band of my underwear – he pulls away, his body slackens, his kisses become less urgent. I sigh inwardly as our kisses turn lazy and slow, their urgency waning as I sink into him. His hands drift back to my sides, protected by the material of my dress.

"What are you doing to me, Bella Swan?" he says with a shuddering sigh.

Resting my chin on his chest, I smile up at him, gazing at the perfectly cut line of his jaw as he stares up at the starry sky.

"I'm just being me."

Lifting his head a little, he looks down at me.

"I know, that's the problem."


	11. Eleven

**Disclaimer: SMeyer owns Twilight and all the characters, I just make them eat Twisties.**

* * *

**Eleven**

* * *

"I just don't know how much longer I can handle seeing Mick walk around without a shirt on."

Rose shudders dramatically. "Yuck; wrinkly man boobs."

"That's not even the worst of it," I continue, leaning back against the bar. "I swear; there's more hair in the sink after he shaves than there is on his entire body." Even Paul cringes. "And yesterday, I caught him feeling up Jessie in the kitchen. He had his hand up her top and everything. It was rank."

I've been living with my aunt and uncle for what feels like forever, and lately it's beginning to wear thin. If Mick isn't strutting around in his Speedos, Jessie's bugging me about Edward. Apparently our midnight tryst was not as secret as I thought. Jessie caught me sneaking back in and hasn't let me get through a day without some mention of Edward. Add to that, the fact that she sneaks into my room to pick up my dirty clothes, and I'm about ready to throw a shit-fit. I mean, yeah, at first the novelty of having someone wash my clothes was kind of nice. But the minute I saw Uncle Mick wrestling one of my g-strings from the dog – I figured enough was enough.

"And, I think I've gained, like, five kilos since I moved here," I complain, poking at my stomach. "Eating too many of Jessie's bloody lamingtons."

"Hey, hey," says Ben, holding a hand up in protest. "I won't have you talking shit about those lamingtons. They're bloody legendary around here."

Rose hums in agreement.

"Well, they're making me fat," I complain, pouting.

"Why don't you come out with me in the mornings?" says Rose.

I raise an eyebrow. "Again with the surfing thing?"

She nods.

"I don't know if you've noticed, I kind of have this crippling form of clumsiness. I don't think standing on a foam board in shark infested waters is the best idea."

Even Ben hides a grin; he's seen my ability to trip on thin air first hand.

Her hand on her hip, Rosie turns to me. "One: there are not that many sharks; it's the jellies you have to watch out for. Two: Unless you're on a boogie board, surfboards are made of fibreglass. And anyway, you'd be surprised. Sometimes even the most uncoordinated people make great surfers."

Pretending to contemplate it, I tap a finger against my chin. "Well, I guess drowning would solve my housing issue."

"One day, Swan!" she argues, pointing a finger at me. Rolling her eyes, Rosie returns to her work, but I can see she isn't going to let it go. At some point I'm going to have to give in and let her take me out for some lessons, but until then, I'm going to stick to swimming and boogie boarding in the shallow water.

It's so slow that I end up stealing Rosie's phone and hacking into her Facebook. I'm just about to post a message about her love for cock, when a message pops up.

"Ooh," I tease, waving her phone at her. "You got a message from a boy."

Rosie practically leaps at me, but I'm faster, ducking away at the last minute.

"Not funny, Bella. Give it to me," she says, her arm outstretched, her fingers wiggling in the air.

"Woooo," I swoon, batting my eyelashes. "Who's Tyler? Your booooyfriend?"

Relaxing visibly, Rose rolls her eyes. "You're a mole. Gimme the phone, it's just Jacko."

Confused, I look down at the screen. "But it says Tyler."

"It is Tyler."

"Who's Tyler?"

"Tyler!" she shouts, stomping a foot frustrated. "Tyler. Jacko."

I hand her back the phone. "Jacko's name is Tyler?"

Rose busts into a fit of laughter. "Tyler Jackson."

"Oh."

I'm such a moron.

"I thought his name was Jack."

Rose laughs, shaking her head. "You fucking idiot. I can't wait to tell him that."

I shrug, thinking about all the shit he's going to give me. "My bad."

* * *

The clock must be stuck on two-thirty. Every time I look up it hasn't moved, and the afternoon is dragging since there's not much to do. I've wiped the bench a dozen times, and Rosie has cut enough lemon and lime wedges for the next month. Leaning against the bar, I pull my hair up off my shoulders, tying it up in a knot on top of my head. The whirring of the fan overhead isn't doing much but move the warm air around, but Paul is too much of a tight-ass to turn the air conditioners on.

It's been a quiet week, but everyone assures me it's the calm before the storm, the moment of peace before summer hits and the town is overrun with tourists. I can see evidence of summer creeping in already. The days are longer, the mornings brighter, and sunsets seem to last for hours, making the days feel endless. The cool reprieve that the night brings is starting to fade, the lush green of spring beginning to darken and dry.

"You know," says Rosie, interrupting my daydreaming. "You're at our place enough. Why don't you just move in?"

"What? With you and Jasper? No, that's just..." I shake my head, hair tumbling out of the knot, falling over my eyes. I brush it out of my eyes and over an ear. "No, I couldn't."

"Why?" She wrinkles her nose at me, confused. "There's a spare bedroom, and Jasper has his own bathroom. Would you rather watch your uncle cop a feel of Jessie in the kitchen while she's cooking your eggs in the morning?"

I flick at her with a tea towel. "Yuck, no! I'd just feel like I was imposing."

"You wouldn't be," she insists. "It's not like it'd be free anyway. We could always use help with the rent."

Chewing on my bottom lip, I quickly weigh up my options. The way I see it I have three:

Find a house of my own and live off baked beans on toast and two minute noodles while I pay the rent and bills on my own.

Stay with Jessie and Mick and accidentally walk in on them doing things that might scar me for life.

Or, move in with Rosie and Jasper, pay minimal rent, have great housemates, and be closer to work.

"Do you think Jasper would mind?"

"Fuck no."

"Is he going to _accidentally_ walk in on me in the shower?"

She snorts. "Probably."

"Speak of the devil," mumbles Ben.

Jasper slides into a bar stool, his hair still damp, his t-shirt, wet in places, clinging to his body like he's thrown it on without drying himself first. Half a minute later Edward, Riles and Jacko follow, all looking much the same; dishevelled and surf blown.

"How's it?" asks Rosie.

"Nah," replies Edward, lifting himself into the seat beside Jasper. His hair is almost dry, the ends curling around the nape of his neck, the top looking like a mess of golden brown hay. "Water's all chop. Not even worth a go-out."

Rosie makes a noise of frustration, and I just stay quiet, not understanding a word. I just toss them all a bag of chips, throwing Edward the last of the salt and vinegar since I know they're his favourite. He winks at me as the catches the foil packet, and in turn, I lose concentration and a packet of Doritos slaps Jasper in the side of the head.

Edward and I have hung out a handful of times since our night on the beach, snuck a few kisses here and there. It's not that we're being secretive – there's not really anything to tell anyway – but there's something kind of hot about our hastened kisses, stolen in secret moments. I figure if I can keep things relaxed and easy, I won't have to deal with broken hearts or painful breakups. Edward seems happy to just go with the flow. He doesn't press the situation, doesn't try to hold my hand in public. He tells me everyone knows we've been hooking up, but pretend like they don't. Until it's their business, it's none of their business is what he said. And I'm down with that.

The four boys hang around talking shit, mucking around, and generally taking advantage of Ben's hospitality, while he, Rose and I work.

Apart from Jasper and Paul, most of the boys don't work. Riles does some part time stuff labouring for a building company, and Edward – well – I'm not one-hundred percent sure what Edward does most of the time. I haven't seen him at the shop for a while, and Rosie says he does some work for his Dad's surfboard company too, but he never seems to be there either. Generally, if he's not surfing, he's with the boys. And when he's with the boys he's surfing. Saturday mornings he disappears for a few hours, to where he won't tell me, but he always reappears again a few hours later, sun-kissed and smelling like sunscreen.

"So, what's crackin'?" asks Riles, shoving a fistful of Twisties into his mouth, bright orange crumbs collecting on his scruffy beard.

"Bella's moving in," replies Rose, throwing me a grin over her shoulder, daring me to object.

Jasper stops mid-chew, raising a pierced eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes," nods Rose. "Really."

He points at me with his open bag of chips. "You're moving in with us?"

I shrug. "If it's okay with you."

Jasper continues to chew for a moment, deep in thought. For a second I think he's going to say no; come up with some reason for me not to move in.

"How do you feel about naked Sundays?"

Rose and I groan, and even Edward punches him in the arm.

"What?" he asks, rubbing his shoulder. "It's just a suggestion."

"You know what this means, yeah?" says Jacko, a pearly-white grin lighting up his dark skin.

We all wait in silence as he looks at us all like we're idiots.

"Moving in party!" he yells, throwing his hands in the air.

The boys all yell and carry on, banging on the bar and giving each other high-fives. There's talk of jelly shots and beer bongs, and Jasper mentions strippers but gets knocked down pretty quickly. Even Rose looks a little excited, especially when Ben mentions covering the bar while she, Paul, Jasper and I all have the night off.

I guess all that's left to do is tell my aunt and uncle.

Moving in with Jasper and Rose could prove to be either a really great idea - or my worst one yet.

* * *

- **Twisties**: I don't know the US equivalent. They're these mangled looking cheesy potato chip type things. They come in chicken flavour, but no one eats them. Also, the cheese ones dipped in peanut butter and fucking amazeballs.

- **Lamingtons**: Practically an Aussie icon. Big squares of yellow sponge cake dipped in chocolate icing and then rolled in coconut. You can get them with a little jam in the middle too.

Also, Australian's are much too lazy to call people by their full name; Jacko, Thommo, Patto, Mick - we're all about the nicknames.

* * *

**Apologies for the delay. I'd originally hoped to post three chaps a week, and while I still have a bunch in reserve, RL has been a pain in the ass lately, and until I'm finished a chapter I won't post another. I'm hoping to have it all finished up before Christmas (famous last words), so never fear, we won't be here this time next year.**

**Thanks as usual to Tiff, Ink and Thimbles for sticking with me. And thank you to all you lovely readers and reviewers, I appreciate your words. xx**


	12. Twelve

**I don't own Twilight, because otherwise I would have insisted on a better wardrobe.**

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**Twelve**

* * *

The smell of meat sizzling on the barbecue drifts through the backyard; smoky, greasy and delicious. It's a Sunday afternoon and the weather is glorious, the perfect day for a lazy lunch with friends. My mouth waters as Ange waddles outside with a bowl of pasta salad, her hand resting on her huge belly as she leans over to put it on the table beside the myriad of other accompaniments she's prepared. For a woman supposed to pop out a little one at any moment, she's surprisingly calm and domesticated, spending half the morning cooking for friends instead of on the couch where she should be.

"You want a hand?" I ask, setting the last of the plates on the outdoor table.

"Nah," she replies, shooing away a fly with a flip of her hand. "It's done now. Just gotta wait for the boys to get back, and then we can eat."

"You can hand me a plate," says Rosie from behind the barbecue. Her sunshine blonde hair is piled atop her head, curly strands falling around her forehead and over her eyes. With her face fixed in concentration as she cooks, she looks just like her brother - the same little crease forming between her brows, the same pucker of her lips.

I've been living with her and Jasper for just over a week, and being around them has really opened my eyes to their similarities. They have a relationship that can only be explained by the fact that they're twins. Like the conversations without words; just a series of grunts and facial expressions. Or the way their moods mirror each other's; if Jasper is pissy and grumpy, Rosie is quiet and withdrawn, and vice versa. I would never tell them this though, they hate being compared to one another, and Jasper is always reminding everyone of the three minutes and twenty seconds he has over his sister.

Narrowly missing a swipe from Rosie's tongs, I steal a piece of cooked onion from the pile on the grill plate, and slip it into my mouth. It's soft and sweet, and cooked perfectly. Rose is kind of a wiz on the barbie.

I hand her the serving plate just as the front door bursts open and the boys all stumble in; damp-haired and water-logged, wearing triumphant smiles that only the ocean can put there. Laughter echoes through the house and the familiar timbre of friendly voices - Edward's included - make me smile. His moods are becoming a little easier to predict. If the surf is good, he's his usual charming self. But, on the odd day that the water is calm and flat, or when the weather doesn't cooperate, he's like a cornered lion, all pent-up and twitchy. It's on those days he usually seeks me out, like he's trying to keep himself busy until he can be in the water again. Not that I mind, I'm more than happy to be a distraction for him.

Ben sits his board against the wall inside the front door, his long blonde hair hanging wet around his shoulders, water dripping over his broad, tattooed chest.

"Don't you dare leave that thing there!" scolds Ange, shaking her head.

Grinning, Ben leans over to kiss his wife on the cheek soundly, whispering something in her ear quietly. Rolling her eyes, Ange smiles wryly at him, nudging him with her baby-widened hip.

"Hurry up then," she concedes, whipping the tea towel at him. "Lunch is ready."

The boys are the first at the table, hip and shouldering each other as they compete for a spot at the spread of food. Like vultures, as quickly as they descend, they're gone, leaving nothing but a few chops and some salad for the rest of us.

"Ugh," groans Rose, picking up the lone slice of garlic bread left. "You boys are fucking pigs."

With full mouths and plates, the boys ignore her, ravenous from a morning in the surf.

Loading up my own plate with salad and half of the remaining sausage, I take the only available seat left beside Edward. With a mouth full of white bread and tomato sauce, he grins at me before washing it down with a mouthful of beer. I watch him from the corner of my eye as he devours his food like a jail inmate, shovelling it into his mouth like it's his last meal.

Balancing my plate on my legs, I nudge his arm gently as everyone around us talks loudly. "How was it?"

With a forkful of pasta salad in his mouth, he nods vigorously. Swallowing, he licks his lips, my eyes following the path of his tongue across his bottom lip. "Paul smashed it," he says loud enough for everyone to hear. "Rode like a champ all day."

Paul grins as a chorus of '_Yeewww'_s' erupt from the boys. He looks proud of himself.

"You all set for next weekend?"

Oh, yeah, the epic party to end all parties.

"Nope. Not at all."

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Edward rests his hands on his full stomach. "Want me to come over and help on Friday?"

Peering at him beside me, my eyes can't help but drift down his long legs and back, all the way up to the spot where his golden skin appears from beneath his t-shirt collar. "Nah, we should be okay, I think."

"Sure? I'm pretty good at lifting, and I've got pretty mad decorating skills."

"Mad decorating skills, huh? What are you doing working at Aerial when you could be stringing up fairy lights and paper chains for a living?"

Resting his head back on the chair, he smiles. "Too bad I failed all the written tests at party decorating college. I knew I should have finished high school."

"Oh, well, lucky you're alright at surfing then."

He chuckles, his head lolling to one side and his expression softening as he looks at me. "Yeah, I guess I'm alright."

* * *

The day of the party Rose and I decide to make the most of the weekend off, and head down to the main beach for some sun and relaxation. With the bar so busy, both she and I have been pulling long shifts and working until all hours. Needless to say, I'm absolutely pooped; the weekend off is a godsend.

Taking up a little square of available space on the sand, Rose and I spread our towels out. Even though it's early – only just eight in the morning on a Saturday – the sand is already warm, a sure sign that a hot day lies ahead.

"I don't think I've been down here on a Saturday morning," I muse, watching hordes of people arrive; bringing with them Eskies, towels, beach balls, hats, sunshades and loud, obnoxious children.

"Mmm," rasps Rosie beside me, already half asleep on the warm sand, her t-shirt draped over her face as her long, lean body soaks up the sunshine. "I usually hate it here on the weekends. We won't stay long; it'll start getting hectic about lunch time."

I'd meant to spend my time on the beach getting some vitamin D and relaxing, but there's just so much to see. Girls in teeny-tiny bikinis unwrap themselves from their clothes; full faces of makeup, and jewellery still intact. How they expect to last in the water I'll never know. I catch sight of my Uncle Mick, in his ever present red Speedo, power-walking on the water's edge, his iPod strapped to his arm, his chest hair glistening silver-grey in the sunlight. He waves, his hips swish-swish-swishing from side to side, his arms pumping at his sides, and I wave back, glad he doesn't seem to want to stop and chat.

A small group of children dressed in bright blue rashies and caps are all congregated on the soft white sand, each of them holding a matching boogie board. Parents fiddle with sunscreen and zinc, tying and re-tying the little blue and white caps under their chins. I'm about to look away, when a familiar form, dressed in the same dark blue board shorts, makes his way across the sand to the group of children. His sun-lightened hair is tucked under a backwards red cap, the letters CSLC printed across the back of his shorts. The sight of him in board shorts, slung low, perched on his narrow hips like they're held up by sheer will-power, never fails to send a shot of warmth to my centre. Today is no different, and I adjust my position on my towel, crossing my legs.

"Is that Edward?" I ask, nudging Rosie.

Groaning a little, she lifts her head and then drops it to the sand again. "Yeah. He takes the under seven Nippers."

"He teaches them stuff?"

"Yeah, sort of. He teaches them how to swim in the surf, and how to navigate rips and whatever."

I watch him gather the girls and boys around, his smile visible even from my spot right back on the beach. They line up like a row of ducks, side by side, their boogie boards at their feet. I watch, rapt, as Edward's hands move about in front of him as he talks, his voice silenced by distance and the crowd around me. I find myself giggling when the kids laugh, and watching intently as he demonstrates how to swim across a rip, his powerful arms moving through the air.

With a clap of his hands, the kids are off and racing, boards in hand, straight for the water. Resting back on my elbows, I watch him in the water with the kids, kids no taller than my hips paddling into freezing water I'm freaked out to get into.

While Rose sleeps, I watch Edward; my music in my ears, the sun on my back. After twenty minutes or so of swimming, the kids all exit the water with boundless energy and cold-water pinked skin. Rosalie turns onto her stomach, and I figure since she's fast asleep, I'm going to leave her in peace while I talk to Edward.

Picking my way across the hot sand, through beach chairs and sandcastles, I make my down to the water where Edward stands, retrieving flags and stacking little coloured markers.

"So this is where you go on Saturday morning!"

Straightening up, he turns; blazing smile in full force.

"You caught me," he teases, tossing a little yellow witches hat at me.

"You're like Mother Goose with all those little ones chasing after you."

I try to balance the plastic cone on my head to no avail, instead, watching it topple to the sand.

"I'm like the Pied Piper of Nippers, Bella. Didn't you know that? Kids love me. I'm loveable."

"I'll bet you are."

A trio of girls no older than thirteen or so walk by, waving and greeting Edward by name. Blushing, he waves once, returning his attention to the flag in the sand.

"Does your magic work on teenage girls too?" I ask raising an eyebrow as the pre-pubescent girls giggle quietly to each other.

Edward's curious blush spread across his collar bones and up his neck, tinting his cheeks. The sight of it makes me want to attach my mouth to the indent behind his clavicle and taste the warmth of his skin.

"What are you doing down here?" he asks, changing the subject.

"Basking," I reply, holding out my arms and smiling.

His eyes linger appreciatively for a moment, his gaze hotter than the sun on my skin. And when his eyes meet mine I can tell he's replaying last night in his head.

_Sitting atop his lap in his van, I can feel him beneath me, covered only by the thin material of his shorts as my skirt rides up around my hips. His fingers tangle into the hair at back of my head as he pulls me closer, his hips shifting upwards to meet mine as our kisses become sloppy, our breaths mingling between us. The heat inside the car and out has my hair damp and stuck to the back of my neck, and I can feel how hot Edward is beneath me, his body radiating heat like the midday sun._

_Air hisses from between my teeth as his thumb brushes over my nipple, my bikini top doing nothing to hide the hard peaks beneath. Teasing gently, he brushes my sensitive skin, rolling it between his fingers until they're so hard it hurts. I shudder violently as his whole hand, hot against my already heated skin, palms my breast through the material, long fingers cupping gently as his tongue moves in tandem against mine._

"_Fuck," he drawls as I grind harder over his lap, feeling every long, thick inch of him against me. I worry briefly, albeit excitedly, that he might be bigger than I've had before. And the thought of him stretching me to fit, filling me, bending my body to his will, makes me so fucking hot I can barely stop myself from reaching inside his shorts to take a look._

_Soon we're both panting, pressing, grinding, trying to find friction in the small amount of space we have. His tongue practically fucks my mouth as I move over him, and his hands grip my ass as I move faster, trying to both sate the aching need between my legs, and to watch him come undone beneath me. My arms move above my head to the roof of the van as his thrusts become harder, my whole body bucking violently as he pushes against that spot that within moments has me shaking inside and out. My mouth falls open in a silent scream and his eyes squeeze together tightly; his brow knitted together as he grunts and rolls his hips into me, his head collapsing against my damp chest as he comes. _

"What time does it start tonight?" he asks, and from the look on his face, he knows I'm thinking about it too.

"Whenever. Just come over whenever you want."

"Alright."

I toe the sand, trying to calm my racing heart. "You gunna stay the night? I mean, I think Jasper said some of the boys are crashing on the floor or whatever."

Tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, he nods. "Yeah, Jasper mentioned it. We'll see what happens."

"Okay, well, cool."

He nods, pulling his cap around so that the brim faces front. "See you tonight then."

"Yep."

We're both hiding goofy smiles when we part, because we both know he'll stay the night. And we both know that he'll stay the night in my bed.

It's just a matter of how quickly we get there.

* * *

**Barbie** - Barbeque, not the doll.

**Yeeewwww** - Surfers often call this out as praise in the surf. A more manly version of wooooo!

* * *

**Tiff is my beta Wonder Woman, and Thimbles and Ink are the best cheersquad a girl could ask for.**

**If you want to get a little glimpse into life on Clearwater Beach, try YouTubing an Aussie show called 'Bondi Rescue'. YEEWWWW**!


	13. Thirteen

**Disclaimer: No Twilight blah blah. Bliss n Eso's 'Party At My Place' is a corker of a song for this chapter. Both the video and lyrics.  
**

* * *

**Note: **I forgot to mention last chapter that, yes, an Eskie is like a cooler box. You put ice in it and it keeps your drinks/food cold.**  
**

* * *

**Thirteen**

* * *

So, apparently when Rosie says "just a few people", Jasper hears the words "everyone you've ever met, plus that weird guy who works at the supermarket". By ten o'clock people are spilling out of the back door and onto the decking, every available space covered by Eskies, chairs and people milling around. At first Rose freaked the fuck out, worried that things would get broken or that police would show up. Of course after half a dozen jelly shots, she couldn't give a shit who's here.

"Who are all these people?" I yell over the music, watching as some drunken girl sloshes something red out of a bottle and onto the carpet.

"Friends. Friends of friends," answers Jasper, shrugging as he pours about six different types of liquor into a cup and then adds some lemonade.

I can feel my dress sticking to my lower back with sweat. Even with the doors and windows wide open and the fans on, the house is still hotter than the pits of hell. The combination of a thirty-three degree day and the body heat swirling through the room has my cheeks pink and the hair at the nape of my neck damp and curling. I feel my ponytail brush my shoulder blades as I covertly check the room for Edward's arrival.

He's not here yet. Not that I care of course.

"Here's to my new roomie," says Jasper, handing me the cup and tapping it with his beer.

It smells awful and tastes even worse. "Oh fuck, that's awful," I splutter, feeling the mixture of gin and something else settling hot and heavy in my stomach. "What is it?"

Jasper shrugs. "Dunno."

With an arm over my shoulder, he spends some time introducing me people; "working the room" as he calls it. I try to ignore the blatant filthy looks from most of the girls as they glare at his arm - golden skin covered in dark ink - draped over my shoulder. I wonder what they would think if they knew the truth, if they knew who's arm was around my shoulder the night before.

As awful as it tastes, the drink Jasper made me does a pretty good job at getting me thoroughly tipsy, very quickly. And after half a cup of the stuff my taste buds are numb and I can barely taste it anyway. I'm chatting to Jacko and some of his mates, swaying happily to the music when Edward finally appears at my side.

"Well, well, fancy seeing you here," he says, a beer in his hand. Dressed in his usual attire, he looks casually fuckable even in the sweltering heat.

"Fancy," I reply, "Since I live here and all." I can already feel my fingers tingling from my drink, my legs like jelly under me.

"It's hot as fuck in here," he says, pulling his t-shirt away from his chest. The movement of his shirt sends a waft of his scent my way, the heady mix of his laundry detergent and boy smell sending a wave of electricity over the surface of my skin. It was only the night before we were in his van, sweaty and laughing, fumbling in the dark like teenagers. Desire is literally rippling under the surface of my skin, making my nerves twitch and my stomach clench uncomfortably.

"How was work?"

Such a mundane question from such a beautiful boy; it makes my heart pitter-patter.

"Fine. Busy."

Nodding, he looks me up and down, lingering on the neckline of my dress; the one I may or may not have picked with him in mind.

"What did you do this morning?"

He shrugs. "Nothing exciting. What are you drinking?" He lifts my cup to his lips and makes a face as he takes a sip. "Jasper?"

Nodding, I take a gulp too, already numb to the taste.

"Oi, Mase," interrupts one the boys, and with a last grin, Edward turns.

"See there's a storm coming in tomorrow arvo?"

He nods. "Yeah, Dad says the northeast will pick up tonight. Should be some good swells in the morning."

A chorus of excited mumblings rushes through the boys, and there's talk of dawn patrol and victory swells. I'm very slowly beginning to pick up on the surf talk. I know 'swells' have something to do with waves; a good swell means decent waves, which means Rose and Jasper come home happy.

As seems to be the norm, my one little moment with Edward is all I get for a while. The boys really are inseparable, and finding time alone with him, especially when trying to keep things on the down low, proves to be hard.

The night wears on, and between Jasper, Rose and Riley, my cup is never empty. Outside, the night air smells of citronella candles and cigarette smoke, the distinct smell of weed and salty sea breeze seeping in.

My lips and tongue are blue from the jelly shots, Rose's tinged red.

"So, what's up with you and Ed?" she asks, her arms wrapped loosely around my waist as I wobble unsteadily on her lap.

"What? Nothing," I lie, swishing the remnants of my drink around in my cup.

I feel her laugh beneath me. "Sure. And I guess that wasn't his bright yellow van I saw dropping you off last night either?"

"Nope."

Looking around for an escape, I spy a pair of grey-blue eyes looking my way. With a hand tucked casually into his pocket and a beer at his lips, he watches me over the top of his bottle, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallows. The weight of his eyes is like a thousand tiny fingers all over my body, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling as I take a deep breath.

"And that's not a dirty fucking hickey on your neck."

Slapping a hand to my neck, I teeter unsteadily on Rosie's lap. "What? There is not!"

She laughs, holding onto me to stop me from falling. "I'm kidding. But you're a shitty liar anyway."

"I'm not lying. I'm just being creative with the truth."

Rosie pinches my thigh gently. "Just be careful, is all I'm saying."

I look on as a gaggle of girls, and they can only be described as a gaggle since they're so young and loud and obnoxious, strut over to Edward. Rose and I watch as they practically fawn over him, smiling, giggling, hair flipping, the kinds of things I should do, but just feel stupid doing.

"You gonna go over there?" Rose asks.

We watch as Edward plays along, smiling sweetly, running his hands through his hair and generally abusing my self control.

"Nah."

"Fuck that," mutters Rosie, shoving me off her lap as she stands up. Glowing fierce and beautiful under the twinkling party lights, she stomps over.

"Who the fuck are you?" she spits loudly in one of the girl's faces.

"Who are _you?_" fires back the dark-haired beauty, a hand on her hip.

Rosie raises an eyebrow and leans in looking at her incredulously. "I live here, bitch."

Taking it as his cue to exit, Edward nods goodbye and leaves Rosie alone to deal with the young gate crashers. He's pink cheeked and swaying a little, unable to hide the grin that spreads across his face as he nears, plopping himself into a seat beside me.

He opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by Jasper, drunk as fuck, yelling his name as he comes bounding through the backyard, a short, blonde-haired girl under his arm trying to keep up. I try to find it in me to be put out, but Edward is all giggles and silly boy drunk, wobbly on his feet and full of smiles - I just can't do it.

Looking down at my cup, I pout, suddenly a little forlorn that it's empty. Tapping the bottom of the cup, I slurp the remains of whatever it was that was in there, and leave Edward in search of another.

Between the wall to wall people and the constant meet and greet, it takes me almost half an hour just to get to the bathroom. The bath, once filled with ice, is now a slushy mix of water and cans of beer. Bypassing the couple practically humping against the vanity, I dip my hand into the water to grab a can of beer. The water is still icy cold, and the can is cool to the touch. Sighing, I wipe my cold wet hand across the back of my neck, goosebumps trailing up my arms as cold water rolls down my spine.

A warm hand wraps around my elbow, and a familiar scent hits me as I'm pulled against his chest. "Are you trying to kill me?" he says quietly.

I smile. "I'm just trying to keep cool."

"Cool," he repeats, a deep sigh caressing the skin of my neck, his broad chest expanding across my bare back.

"That's your bedroom right there, hey?" he says, and I can feel the heat pouring off his skin through the thin material of his t-shirt.

Clutching the wet can to my stomach, I nod.

His hands are insistent as they pluck the drink from my hand, letting it fall back into the bathtub with a splash, before he leads me out of the bathroom and into the hallway.

"Does it have a lock?" he asks, hands moving down my arms and across my abdomen, my dress bunching between his fingers.

I shake my head, rendered speechless with need as I turn the door handle.

Standing in the doorway to my bedroom, I turn around, my heart stuttering an uneven rhythm at the sight of him; dishevelled and a glorious, a mess of drunk smirks and flushed skin.

He shakes his head. "Fuck it."

Stumbling into my bedroom, Edward takes all of half a second to look around before pushing me further into the room and closing the door behind him. It's only been one day, but as our lips finally connect, it feels like I've been waiting forever. We're a frenzy of lips and hands as I pull him down with me onto the bed, and he laughs as I rip his t-shirt over his head and toss it into my room somewhere, hopefully never to be found again. The music thumps on the other side of the door, the beat of the bass rumbling through the walls. His skin is hot, his heart beating hard against his chest, golden skin smattered with freckles from days in the sun.

"Wait a sec," he pants, and for a moment I think he's going to stop. Instead, he sits up and leans back on his heels, smiling. "I just wanna do one thing."

With an open hand, he watches as he slowly runs his fingertips up the outside of my calf, dipping them into the dip behind my knee, making me shiver. Continuing upwards, he skims the outside of my thigh where he captures the bottom of my dress. I lift up a little, allowing him to slip it over my hips and then my head, leaving me panting in my bra and undies. With only the light filtering in through the blinds, I watch as he kisses my ankle, my calf, my knee, all the way up to my thighs. I let out a pathetic little yelp as his teeth close around the inside of my thigh gently before his tongue sweeps over the sensitive skin, making my legs fall open a little wider.

"Your fucking legs, Bella. Christ, they're the most perfect things I've ever seen, did you know that?" I shake my head as he begins again at my other ankle. "So fucking long and smooth, and fucking pretty. And I don't call things pretty all that much, but they are. So bloody pretty." The urge to press my knees together overwhelms me as he sucks the skin inside my thigh, higher than before, and hard enough to leave a mark. The ceiling fan does nothing to cool my heated skin, and a sweat breaks out across my chest as Edward's lips travel up over my hip bone.

It's too much - too much but not enough.

I almost fall off the bed as I try to pull a badass ninja move and flip him onto his back. With some fumbling and laughter, I finally get him underneath me; finally get to touch the skin I see so regularly. His drunken ramblings quiet as I kneel over him, my fingers exploring the perfect contours of his chest; the dip over his sternum, the little bumps of his ribs exposed to me as he breathes deeply.

His hands explore from below; fingers caressing my legs, my hips, making me giggle as they skim my ribs.

"C'mere." He pulls me down beside him on the bed.

"You taste good," he hums, sucking gently on my bottom lip as we continue to kiss. His mouth tastes like beer and the peppermint Extra he's been chewing all night. I must taste like gin and a shot I had earlier.

"We should go out…" He groans, his brows furrowing as my hand slips down the front of his boxers. "Fuck. Out on a date or something."

For a quiet guy, Edward is extremely fucking chatty when I want him to shut up and kiss me again.

He fumbles with my bra, grunting a little as he rocks into my hand. I was right to be a little worried. Closing my hand around him, my fingertips touch only when I squeeze a little, which earns me a grunt and an accompanying thrust.

"Is this a trick bra or something?" he mumbles, tugging roughly at the clasp of my bra.

Figuring the best way to get it off quickly might be to do it myself, I reach around and brush his hands aside. When my drunken fumbled tries to undo my bra are also fruitless, we both end up laughing as I pull it up and over my head.

Edward stops laughing, his bottom lip disappearing between his teeth. "Fuuuuck," he groans as his hands attach themselves to my now bare breasts. His hands are hot against my skin, his touch making my head spin. And the bed. And the room. Come to think of it, that's probably the alcohol.

"Wait, wait, wait," he pants, pulling back a little, still grinning.

"No, no "_wait_". Now." I try to push my hand back into his boxers, but he just laughs, trying to wriggle out of my reach.

"Bella."

"Can't we just…" I tug at the elastic of his boxers.

"I don't know if I can tonight," he admits a little sheepishly.

"What? Why? We'll be quiet, I promise."

"No way! I'm drunk as fuck," he says, laughing. "I'll last about two seconds!"

"That's fine," I reply, giggle snorting as I accidentally knock him on the head with my elbow as I try to straddle him again.

"It's not fine, Bella."

I'm too drunk to put up a fight as he pulls me off of him and onto the bed again.

Pouting, I let go of his boxers. "But..."

"Just chill," he smirks, pulling my hands up over my head, securing them safely away from his crotch. "It's not like you're leaving tomorrow, we have time."

The room is still spinning furiously, and I contemplate lying on the floor to make it stop. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes. "Fine. Party pooper."

Like the fight has all but drained out of us, Edward and I lie tangled on my bed, dozing in a drunken stupor, the party still raging outside my door.

"Seriously, though," says Edward, his voice raspy and heavy with sleep. "Shouldn't I take you out on a date or something first?"

My eyes are heavy, the blood pulsating behind my closed eyes. "Nah. Dates mean labels. I don't want a label."

"A what?" He sounds as close to sleep as I am, his arm draped over my chest, his head buried in the pillows beside mine.

"Labels...Girlfriends and...boyfriends and..." I yawn loudly. "Stuff."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

* * *

**Thirty-three degrees:** We measure temperature in Celsius, so 33C is about 91F. Hot.

**Extra:** Chewing gun brand.

**"Arvo":** Short for afternoon.

**"Northeast":** Also called a "Nor'easter", it's a wind change that comes form the north-east, often bringing good swells to southern parts of Australia.

* * *

***hides* **

**Tiff is the bomb, yo. Fo reals. Thimbles is just...what can I say. She's a warm doona on a cold morning. And my Ink, my girl, my lovah. I'm lusty for them all.**

**Thank you to everyone still reading and leaving reviews, and putting me on alert and for just BEING THERE, OKAY! Have a lovely weekend 3**


	14. Fourteen

**Disclaimer goes here.**

* * *

**Fourteen**

* * *

The shrill ring tone on Edward's phone pierces the silence in my bedroom for the third time. But instead of answering it, he ignores it, and I feel him moan, the rattle vibrating through his chest as I lie splayed across it. Shifting a little, his arm tightens around my shoulders, his legs intertwined with mine. I can feel a layer of light sweat all over me, my hair's matted to the back of my neck and my feet feel like lava. For a moment, I'm self-conscious about the fact that I'm half naked, clothed only in my undies, in front of Edward. But as Edward's hand, hot like fire against my skin, travels the length of my bare back, I'm glad I don't have anything between his skin and mine.

When his phone rings a fourth time though, I sit up and grab it.

"Answer the fucking thing!"

Grumbling, Edward puts the phone to his ear, closing his eyes again as I lie back down, my head in the crook of his shoulder.

"What?" he grunts, clearing his throat.

The house is quiet and still, understandably so since it's not even light outside yet. I can see cracks of grey morning light filtering in through the slits in my blinds; I don't even know where my phone is to check the time.

Taking a long, deep breath, Edward lets out a long, raspy groan. "Gimme an hour, yeah?"

With his eyes still closed he tosses the phone aside and rolls over to bury his face in my neck. He smells like hot skin and beer, but to be honest, I don't think I smell any better. He takes another breath, kissing the skin of my shoulder and sending goosebumps down my back as his scruffy chin scratches at my skin.

Snuggled up atop my sheets we fall asleep again quickly. Well, I do. Even drifting in and out of sleep I can feel Edward shifting restlessly beside me, like he can't get comfortable. After he repositions himself for the third time, I give up.

"What?"

He's lying on his back, his eyes wide open. "Nah, nothing, go back to sleep."

I roll my eyes. "I can't sleep with you wriggling."

Silent for a moment, I can see him debating something, his body is here, but it's like his mind is somewhere else completely.

"Storm's coming up fast," he says, like I'm supposed to know what the fuck that means.

"And?"

He scratches at his chest, sighing. "The boys are already out. Jacko reckons it's pumping."

"Oh."

I want him to do whatever he wants, but at the same time, I'm pretty happy with him in my bed too.

"Well." I sit up, resting my head on my hand. "You can go if you want."

Edward looks at me, chewing on this inside of his cheek. "You wanna come?"

"Surfing?"

"Nah, you can just chill on the beach and then we can do something after."

I should probably stay and help Rosie and Jasper clean up. But come to think of it, they're probably already out there.

* * *

Edward's van seems to be ready at a moment's notice, ready packed with a wetsuit and his board, towels and various other bits and pieces.

"Presumptuous much?" I tease as he zips his wetsuit up.

Grinning, he lifts his board out of the back of the van and tucks it under his arm. "Gotta be prepared for anything."

"Scouts, right?"

The sky is a mottled grey colour, sunlight trying to break through the heavy clouds as they hang low in the distance. The sea looks rough, like it's spitting the waves at the shore. Loud and thrashing they crash into the ocean before tumbling towards the sand with a thunderous roar. I can already see a handful of surfers out in the distance, little black dots on the water, braving the massive swells, barrelling in on mammoth-sized waves.

Riley is still on the sand, his black neoprene wrapped body cutting a stark silhouette against the early morning sky.

"Was wondering where you were," he says, wrapping his strap around his ankle.

I rub at the back of my neck awkwardly as Edward grins, looking sideways at me.

"She's moody as shit," says Edward, gesturing to the surf - to the white-capped waves as they careen towards us, roaring loudly.

Riley nods. "Yeah, mate. She's put on a show."

I plop myself down into the sand.

Edward looks down at me, his hair almost red against the grey of the sky. "You good?"

I nod, pulling the sleeves of one of his hoodies over my hands. With one last wink, Edward takes off for the water, splashing into the shallows before lurching forward onto his board.

The wind is so hard I can feel the spray of the ocean against my skin. Heavy with anticipation, the air is thick and wet, almost rain but not quite. I can smell the storm in the distance; the drift of clear, sweet ocean air mixed with the earthy scent of rain. It's going to be one hell of a storm.

With my legs tucked under the hoodie, I watch the boys surf waves higher than a house, huge green-grey things that rise up like a wall of water, before cresting into perfect curves that tumble over themselves into a wash of white froth. And the boys ride them like it's nothing, like being chased by tonnes of angry, storm-violent water isn't a thing. They slide through the water like a hot knife through butter, up and down, arms out as they speed through the barrels until they run out of wave, or until it claims them, smashing them into the water.

But at the first crack of thunder above, the surfers are relegated to the sand, all dribbling in one by one, panting and spitting water, dripping wet and full of smiles.

Rosie and Jasper are there, and so are the boys: Riley, Jacko, Uncle Mick and a couple of other guys I've seen around. There are a few I don't know, some young looking boys and a couple of older men I've not seen around before. Their weathered skin and greying hair belies their age, but their physique could be that of a young adult, all broad shoulders and lean, muscled arms.

"Right to go?" asks Edward, his wetsuit on his hips, his hair dripping wet over his forehead.

"Yep."

"I'll see you at home later, Ed," calls a voice across the beach.

Edward replies with a wave, and the older, blonder version of him waves back before trotting off up the beach, a board under his arm.

"That your dad?"

Scrubbing his towel over his wet hair, Edward says, "Yeah."

Surfing is obviously something Edward learned from his Dad, and I wonder idly to myself if there are any more bronzed Masen kids running around Clearwater, and where Edward gets his hair from, since his Dad is blonde. Sudden images of tiny dark-eyed kids in rash vests and Floaties pop into my head; of summers spent chasing rusty-haired children over the scorching hot sand. Another rolling crack of thunder startles me out of my ridiculous daydream and a blaze of bright white lightening streaks across the sky in the distance.

"Come on then," says Edward, his damp towel hanging around his shoulders. "Before it starts to piss down."

Shaking stupid thoughts out of my head, we make our way back up to the van, and by the time he and I get there, the rain has started, the sky growing darker by the minute. I watch it in the rear view mirror as we pull away, the charcoal sky lit with sheet lightening, the sea a rapid boil of choppy waves.

At home all four of us stand in our kitchen, eating Vegemite on toast. Rosie attempts to clean up the party mess, but it's only a half-hearted attempt, and she stops as soon as she starts. Jasper is wiped out after only having had two hours sleep, and then a morning in the surf. Edward is not much better.

"Not like you to be late," comments Jasper, eyeing Edward over a piece of Vegemite slathered toast.

Edward shrugs. "Better things to do."

Jasper's eyebrows rise so high they almost fall off the top of his head. "Huh. Right-o."

Chewing slowly, Jasper's gaze turns to me, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm watching you two," he says before backing out of the kitchen slowly, his fingers moving between his eyes and mine.

I snort as he backs into his closed bedroom door, opens it, and slides in before closing it again.

"Well. That was weird."

Edward nods. "He's a weird guy."

After breakfast, he and I end up back in bed, spending the rest of the day dozing, watching TV and kissing as the storm rages outside my bedroom window. The wind whips against the side of the house, rattling the window in its frame, the rain pounding against the tin roof loudly.

It occurs to me, while Edward is snorting lightly beside me, that really, I don't know a thing about him. I mean, I know the basics; all the things you should know about a guy before you let him touch your vagina. But we never seem to talk about anything of consequence, and most of the time when we do talk, we end up fooling around anyway, and little to no talking gets done.

Part of me is interested to know all the inner workings of Edward Masen; what drives him to get up and wade into icy cold water every morning? If he only works at Aerial sporadically, where does he get his money from? How did he get the scar on his left eyebrow?

But another part of me knows that these are the kind of details that you find out about someone you're dating, someone that you plan to spend extended periods of time with, and probably, sooner or later, call your boyfriend. A panicked feeling rises in my throat, like my heart is trying to force its way out of my mouth so it can run for the hills.

This time it's my ringtone that breaks the silence, breaks my reverie - and reaching for my bedside table, I answer.

"Bella, it's Ben. What are you doing?"

Ben sounds frantic, his words rushed and clipped.

"What? I'm in bed. What are you doing?"

"I'm putting Ange's stuff in the car, she's gone into labour."

I spring out of bed, almost pushing Edward right off the other side.

"What? Is she okay?"

I can hear her in the background, yelling at Ben to calm down.

"She's fine. I just need you to pull a shift tonight if you can?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course."

After wishing them luck, I hang up and hop out of bed.

"Where you going?" asks Edward, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"I have to go to work. Ange went into labour."

Edward's eyes pop open in surprise. "Oh. Cool."

Standing with my work uniform in my hand, I press my lips together, trying to think of a way to get Edward out of my bed so I can make it to work on time.

"I might stay…"

"So are you gonna…" I gesticulate wildly for a moment, pointing to the door. I feel like such a bitch, but all of a sudden I'm overcome with this crushing weight in my chest. Everything I'd said I wouldn't do, I've done. All I can think about when I look at Edward is Jake; a life of after school pick-ups and canteen duty, of mum jeans and a husband with a beer gut who only gets laid on his birthday, and sometimes Christmas. I see a life of unfulfilled dreams living in a small town, and it scares the shit out of me.

"Oh, yeah," he says, jumping out of bed. "You want a ride to work?"

I shake my head, feeling like a total asshole as I watch him pick up his clothes from my bedroom floor.

"Nah, it's fine. Thanks anyway though."

"No stress. Uh – you seen my t-shirt?" He spins around on the spot, his hand rubbing errantly at his chest.

Picking it up from the floor at my feet, I hand it to him, still clutching my own clothes to my chest.

Slipping it over his head, Edward pulls his head through, running his hands through his hair a couple of times before slipping his hat on.

"See you round?"

I nod, and for a brief moment I think he's going to lean in and give me a kiss. He seems to think twice about it though, probably noticing the look on my face. Smiling, he shakes his head slightly, and with a last goodbye, leaves.

The minute I step into the shower I feel like shit, and it occurs to me, as I scrub my hair angrily, rushing through a shower, that I should have been more adult about everything. I should have told Edward that I didn't want a boyfriend to begin with; then maybe I wouldn't be doing this awkward dance with him.

But if I don't want anything with Edward, why was it so fucking painful to watch him leave?

* * *

**Scouts**: I know you have Scouts. Just to clarify the reference, their motto is 'Be Prepared'.

**Floaties**: Inflatable arm bands for toddlers.

**Vegemite**: I know you know it. Thick, black, salty paste made from yeast. Sounds awful, tastes awesome.

**Canteen Duty**: Some parents volunteer for canteen duty at their kid's Primary School (Ages 6-12). Mostly handing out lunch orders and things. I think.

* * *

**Before you start, don't go giving me lip about angst! This is a relatively angst-free story, with some bumps - that's all. Life isn't easy peasy all the time. **

**Tiff, Thimbles, Ink - The peanut butter to my celery.  
**

**Thank you for reading, and thank you to those of you leaving a review. Much Love.**


	15. Fifteen

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters are owned by S. Meyer. Follow the Sun and it's fuckery are mine.**

* * *

**Fifteen**

* * *

The sweat drips down my back, running the length of my spine before it seeps into the material of my singlet top. I don't know why I thought running would be a good idea, walking would have sufficed. But the thought of spending another long day at home – alone – had me tying my shoes and out the door before I remembered that I don't know how to run.

Well, I know how to run, it's not like I've never been shown how to fling one foot in front of the other. I mean, if I was being chased by rabid drop bears I'd know how to get away, I just don't know how to run _properly_. But for some reason I run anyway, one foot in front of the other until my knees ache and my chest feels like it's going to burst. The air is thick and damp, the humidity high as last night's rain steams from the hot bitumen.

It's not like I go far – around the block, maybe – but it feels like a million fucking kilometers by the time I get home. Standing on the path out the front of the house, I rest my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath as it wheezes in and out of my lungs.

"Lookin' good."

A hand slaps me on my sweaty butt, and I lift my head to see Rose on her way out; her board tucked under her arm.

"Fu…fuck you," I pant.

"Were you running?"

Nodding, I straighten up, pushing the sweaty hair off my face. "Trying."

Snorting, Rose shifts her stuff higher onto her shoulder, her phone clutched in her left hand.

"What's with you and that thing lately?" I ask, gesturing to her phone. "It's like it's permanently glued to your hand."

"Whatever," she replies, making a dismissive face. "All that fresh air's made you crazy."

"Bullshit! You slept with it beside your pillow last night."

Her mouth drops open, and she barks out a loud laugh . "What were you doing in my bedroom last night, you fucking creep?"

"Borrowing your laptop cord!" I reply, shoving her lightly. Reaching for her phone, I tease her loudly, reaching around her as she plays keepings off with her stupid phone.

"Are you waiting for a boy to call? Is it Rory that works at Coles? It is isn't it?"

She's too quick for me though, and I only catch air as she snatches it out of my reach. "It is _not_ Rory," she snaps, rolling her eyes.

"Ooh, touchy!"

Thrusting my hips at her, I make fake moaning noises, giggling as her face turns bright red.

"You're a mole," she says, shoving me lightly.

"I'll figure it out, you know!" I yell after her as she walks off, flipping her middle finger at me over her shoulder.

Another reason Rosie and I are so close, is her propensity to keep things close to her chest. She's never spoken about a guy, and apart from a random hook-up here and there, she's never brought anyone home. As much as I tease her, I know she'll tell me when she's ready.

Or, I can hunt down Jasper and make him tell me. Much better idea.

The minute I walk in the front door, he appears from the kitchen, still in his boardies, his hair a curly mess from the morning's surf.

"Can you look at something for me?" he asks, undoing the drawstrings on his shorts and pulling the material away from his hips.

I almost run into the wall in an attempt to get away from him. "What? No!"

"Please?" he begs, looking more than a little concerned. "I think it's just sand rash, but..." His tongue fiddles with the metal in his lips as his brow furrows. "I dunno."

Holding up my hands, I dodge his outstretched shorts and uncovered crotch, averting my eyes. "Fuck off with your nasty sexual diseases."

"It's just sand rash!" he yells, looking down his pants and then up at me. "I think." He gives his hips a shake for good measure, and I pretend I don't hear his balls slapping against his leg.

"Well stop fucking every tourist that bats her lashes at you and maybe you won't get the clap!"

His eyes widen. "You thinks it's Chlamydia?"

"I think I'm getting in the shower. You can deal with your nasty balls all on your own."

"You can't leave me!"

His phone rings before he can argue some more and I take the opportunity to escape into the bathroom.

"Edward! Bella says I have the clap. Huh? No way! When?"

Hearing Edward's name, I close the bathroom door in an effort to not think about him while I'm naked.

I don't think about him as the hot water streams over my skin, washing away the sweat. And I most definitely don't think about him when I soap up my skin, washing myself slowly, gently; making sure that all of my most sensitive places are really good and clean.

Nope.

No.

Not at all.

Luckily for me, it just so happens that Edward has been MIA for the past few days, leaving me to wallow in my own self-imposed solitude. I feel more than shitty for the way I treated him, in fact, I feel like a right asshole. It would serve me right if he never spoke to me again after I threw him out like he was one of Jasper's nasty hook-ups. After spilling my guts to Rosie, she assured me that he wasn't like that, and that throwing him out probably made him even more determined, but I'm not so sure.

Fucking hell, being an adult is so hard! Who decided that being an adult meant being responsible and making hard decisions? Probably the same person who decided the work week would be five days, and the weekend only two. Wanker. Just when I thought I'd got a hold on it, when I'd figured out the art of paying bills on time, managing my funds and making sure I didn't die of malnutrition – I have to deal with feelings I shouldn't be having for a certain copper-haired beach bum.

Fuck life in its ass.

After my shower I tidy the bathroom up a little, clean the shower, do a load of washing and clean the house from top to bottom; anything to keep nagging thoughts of Edward out of my head. But since our flat is so small, I'm done by early afternoon. And with Jasper off no doubt being quarantined for some hideous venereal disease, I'm home alone again.

Sitting on the couch I so dutifully vacuumed the crumbs out of, I contemplate sending Edward a text, something to apologize for my awful behavior.

Three times I type out a long, convoluted message, and three times I delete the whole thing.

In the end, I toss my phone across the room and bury myself in the couch, resigned to watching crap daytime TV and kid shows.

* * *

**Coles - **An Australian supermarket chain.**  
**

**Mole - **A derogatory term for a woman.

* * *

**Tiff-dog is my beta and I love her. Thimbles is tea in the sun. Ink is my mayhem girl. **

**Loving all the reviews, SO HARD. Apologies for my lack of review replies. Just know I appreciate each and every one.**


	16. Sixteen

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and all of it's characters. I own Bella's snark, and Salty's easy smile.**

* * *

**Fifteen**

* * *

"How do I know if it's cooked?"

Shouldering my mobile phone, I open the oven door a little further, wincing as the hot air hits my face.

I can hear mum's sewing machine whirring in the background as she talks. "Put a knife in the middle, and if it comes out clean, then it's cooked."

Pulling the cake tin out a little further, I scowl at the brown-almost-too-brown top. "I think it's burning."

Mum sighs. "Well, take it out."

Frustrated and so fucking over this sponge cake bullshit, I pull the tin out of the oven and set it down on the cooling rack.

"How's Dad?"

"The same," assures Mum, her words mumbled as she speaks around a set of pins between her lips. The thought of her; brow furrowed as she hunches over a pair of Dad's work pants, makes my heart ache a little. No matter how old I am, the thought of her; of her smell, her voice, her smile, is like a comforting balm on my soul. I would never admit it to her, but I miss her like crazy. Hence Nanna Swan's sugar-rich sponge cake recipe.

After some tin wiggling and plate jiggling, I flip the cake over onto the rack, ready to get it out of the pan. With a deep breath, I lift the tin off and watch in horror as creamy yellow cake batter floods the plate, settling on top of an inch or so of cooked sponge cake.

"Muuuuuuuum!"

Cake mix drips off the plate and onto the bench, making little pools of sugary batter.

"What?"

"It wasn't cooked, and now it's going everywhere!"

The sewing machine stops, and I stand, watching the batter drip onto the kitchen floor as I wait for further instructions.

"Um, I'll just get your Dad. He wants to say hi."

"Wait!"

Scrambling for paper towel, I try to stop it from running any further; my fingers ending up a sticky, gooey mess instead.

"Fuuuuuck!"

"Language."

"Oh, hey, Dad."

Giving up on the pile of soggy, sticky paper towel, I lean against the kitchen sink, licking the cake mix off my fingers, listening as Dad talks briefly about nothing in particular: the farm, his new chainsaw, the lack of rain. Listening to him sends a pang of longing through me again, this time it's a deep ache for the space of the country, for the smell of approaching rain over the farm and mum's roast lamb.

"What about Christmas? You coming home?"

Sighing, I look over at the calendar on the fridge; six weeks until Christmas.

"I dunno, Dad. I'll probably be working. I'll have to check."

He grunts in response. "I guess we could always come to you. Get your old man a bit of sun on the beach."

Visions of Charlie in shorts assault me, his thick hairy Dad-legs poking out the bottom.

"Yeah, we'll figure something out."

"Did your mum tell you she has a baby roo in the house?"

I can hear mum chastising my dad in the background as he sighs loudly.

The sound of their bickering makes me smile. "A joey?"

"A bloody joey."

"What is she doing with a kangaroo? Doesn't she have enough animals?"

I can almost hear my dad's eyes roll through the phone. "She found it by the side of the road. You know how she is with that stuff."

Ah, my mum the bleeding heart. If one of the ewes was pregnant, you can be sure she's the first one there when the lamb is born. Found a bird with a broken wing? Renee Swan will look after it. Stray dog? Take it to Renee. Dad always complains about the random animals in the house, but to be honest I think it's one of the things he loves about Mum. That and her great legs – a genetic trait I apparently inherited.

"Did I tell you Ange had a baby girl?"

"Who?"

"Ange – Ben's wife."

"Uhhhh..."

"The owner of the bar – oh, Christ, never mind."

Dad's never been one for remembering things.

"Heard from Jake lately?"

I stop licking my fingers. "No. Why?"

Dad clears his throat awkwardly. "Oh. No reason."

"Dad."

"Bella."

"Why, Dad?"

"Nothing! He was here the other day helping me with the engine in that bloody four wheeler again, and he might have mentioned something about a...girl."

A pang of jealousy hits me unexpectedly. "A girl? Like, a girlfriend?"

"I don't know, Bella," Dad whines. "Just a girl. Rachel someone."

"Rachel Allen!" I screech. "That skank."

"Language, Bella!"

I don't know why the news about Jake takes me by surprise so much, it's not like I haven't spent the past couple of months lusting over Edward. I guess it's just the knowledge that Jake's moved on, that he isn't sitting around the farm pining, sulking, waiting for me to come home. I'm part relieved, part annoyed, and it's frustrating as fuck. To make matters worse, I haven't heard from Edward since the morning I basically threw him out of my bed. I don't know if he's waiting for me to call and apologise, or if I should be giving him space. The thought that me mightn't call at all, is like ice in my veins, my stomach sinking with a heavy _thunk_.

After I hang up with Dad, I scrounge up some clean work gear and head over to Mint for the Friday night shift, my cake disaster nothing but a sticky mess in the bin.

It's mid-November, and the season is beginning to pick up. As soon as Friday night hits, the once peaceful esplanade is bumper to bumper with cars, every available car space taken, every picnic table full of tourists. Weaving my way down the busy sidewalk, I pick my way through slow walking oldies and sidewalk-hogging families. I can kind of understand why the locals hate tourist season; lines at the supermarket, all the tables full at the cafes, I'm starting to miss the quiet coastal town I've grown to love.

"Oi, Bella!"

I stop at the sound of my name booming across the road.

Hanging out the passenger window of Edward's van, is Jacko, his dark curly hair whipping around his face. Edward rolls the van to the stop, not caring that he's obviously holding up traffic.

I shield my eyes from the sun with one hand, waving with the other. "Hey."

The tip of a surfboard is wedged between Jacko and Edward, its bright red design one I've come to recognise as one of Edward's boards. Looking at him behind the wheel, it feels longer than a week since I saw him last, and his scruffy jaw line and dark sunglasses make me want to rip the car door off and launch myself at him. I don't of course. Instead, I stand beside the van, sweltering in my work shirt and jeans, feeling more than a little awkward.

"Hey, Edward." I wave again, accompanying it with a tentative smile.

His lip slipping from between his bottom teeth, Edward's lips curve into my favourite lazy smile. "Hey."

"You been in?" I ask, gesturing to the crowed main beach.

They both shake their heads.

"Nah," says Edward, ignoring the horns blaring behind him. "Full of fucking tourists and groms."

There's no trace of anger or resentment in Edward's voice, no clipped tone, no hurt in his voice. I wonder momentarily if it's just me that's spent the last week fretting.

Maybe this no-strings thing is easier that I thought?

"When are we gunna get you in a wetsuit?" he asks, smiling as I shake my head.

I raise an eyebrow. "When you teach me how to surf."

Rosie would kill me if she heard me say that. But somehow, Edward seems like a better teacher. Well, not better, just more preferable.

"Any time, Swan," he replies with another smile.

"Alright, you two," interrupts Riles. "Save it for when you're alone please."

As he babbles about his crush on the girl from the fish and chip shop with the massive tits, a small group of girls, who have sizeable breasts of their own, walk past the car, calling out to Edward. I watch as he waves politely at them, and I want to know _how_ he knows them, and _why_ they're waving and giggling like they are. It reminds me of the night at Rosie's, and the day on the beach - the way girls, and guys, seem to gravitate towards him.

The honking of the car horns becomes incessantly loud, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Fuck off will ya?" yells Riley out the window, flipping his middle finger up at the cars behind him.

"See you tonight?" I ask them, glancing back at Edward.

They both nod in the affirmative, and we go our separate ways, Edward's van spluttering and whining loudly down the street.

I'm not sure how he does it, but after just a few minutes with Edward, all thoughts of stupid Jake and that mole Rachel are behind me. I'm not going to let it bother me, I made my bed and I am happy with my decision. If anything, knowing he's not going to spend his days pining for unrequited love leaves me feeling a free, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

I do, however, make a decision to take a trip home soon. It's been too long since I've seen my parents, and after the call earlier I'm beginning to realise how much I miss them.

* * *

Rosie and Paul, as well as Jasper and a couple of the casual staff, are all working when I arrive, and soon enough the place is in full swing. I thought the bar was busy in the off season, but that night I realise I was mistaken. By ten-thirty there isn't a seat left in the place, the bar is full to capacity, and the line out the door grows with every passing hour. I've never worked so fucking hard in my life, but it feels good. The ache in my arms and feet makes me feel like I'm doing something – even if it is just working a bar.

"Can I get a...um...a Stella, please?"

My fingers tap the counter on the bar as I get a good look at the kid. He looks like a baby giraffe; awkward limbs and a body he hasn't quite grown into. Strawberry blonde hair tangles around his boyish face, a pair of familiar-looking eyes peering out at me from underneath.

"I'm going to have to see some ID."

His smile almost splits his cheeks in two as he passes the shiny new card over.

"Embry Masen?"

So that's why he looks so familiar. Chancing a second look, I realise he looks more like his brother than I'd first realised. Broad shoulders and an angular face, it's like looking at Edward as a teenager. He even has a hat on, although his is backwards with tufts of blonde hair poking out the front.

"Happy birthday," I say, handing back his ID.

He shuffles awkwardly at the bar, dimples forming in his cheeks as he shoves the card back in his wallet, mumbling his thanks.

I put his beer on the bar, and a shot of Jager beside it. "On the house," I say with a wink.

"You never give me free drinks!"

I don't even have to look up from the register to know whose voice it is.

"It's not your birthday," I yell over my shoulder.

Turning from the till, I watch as Edward slings an arm over his brother's shoulder. "It might have been."

"Uh-huh," I reply, unconvinced. The noise of the bar seems to slip away for just a heartbeat as I realise suddenly, that Edward is wearing a shirt.

Not a t-shirt - an actual _shirt_.

With buttons.

Sure, it's basically a flannel shirt with a collar, but it's the most dressed up I've ever seen him, and the way it hangs from his broad shoulders, the rolled-up sleeves exposing his lean forearms, makes me want to drop to my knees and thank whoever it was that made him wear it.

"How would you know it's not my birthday?" he contests. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Bella Swan."

I laugh, grabbing him a beer. "Amazing considering how much you talk about yourself."

Embry laughs, his cheeks already pink from the alcohol.

"Yeah, alright," chastises Edward, his brow creasing into a little frown. "At least I'd kissed a girl when I was eighteen."

Embry's face flames an iridescent shade of red and his mouth snaps shut. "Shut the fuck up."

I move to serve other customers as Embry and Edward trade insults for a while, the usual brother bullshit.

I feel bad for the kid, he obviously didn't inherit the Masen charm that Edward has, but there's no reason why a boy as cute as he is should be turning eighteen – the legal age of consent – without having kissed a girl.

Spurred on by Edward's teasing, and feeling a little bold, I lean forward and grab Embry by the scruff of his t-shirt and plant a chaste but impressive-looking kiss on his lips.

"Happy birthday," I say with a smile, as his friends, obviously watching from afar, howl and cheer as Embry's face goes ever redder, his eyes wide and sparkly.

As I get back to work, I can hear Edward behind me.

"Are you kidding me? She knows you for two minutes and she's kissing you!"

"Do you know how long it took me to get a kiss?"

And , "Wipe that grin off your face!"

He's kidding of course; I can both hear it in his voice and see it in his smile.

With a shy grin and mumbled thanks, Embry makes his way back over to his friends, walking tall and looking quite proud of himself.

"Another beer?" I ask, gesturing to Edward's half empty bottle.

"What? I don't get a kiss?"

My stomach flip-flops, but I do my best to keep a lid on it. As Rosie predicted, he's obviously not deterred by my momentary panic attack, and for that both my right hand and I are happy. I flip the top off a Corona, and shove a slice of lime down the neck. "You'll get a kiss. You just have to wait until I'm finished work."

"I can do that. How about a date instead then?"

Looking on the shelves behind me, and then under the bar, I shake my head. "You know, I think we're fresh outta them."

"Not even one? One date? Come on, Bella."

"What's with you and dates?"

"It's really not a big deal."

"That's what they all say," I reply, serving the guy beside him as I talk. "One date turns into two, two turns into fooling around, then the next thing you know you're in love with me and I'm stuck in Clearwater raising your little brood of surfer kids."

He laughs. "That doesn't sound so bad does it? I'll even buy you dinner first."

Sensing my hesitation, Edward's face softens and a gentle smile dances across his lips. "Relax, Bella, okay? It's just dinner."

Swallowing my indecision, I take a breath, and for once, listen to my heart instead of my brain.

"I'll think about it, okay?"

"Done."

I swallow the mixture of fear and excitement as it swells in my thraot. I don't want to want him, but I do, and no matter how hard I try I can't stop it.

"What time do you finish tonight?" Edward asks over the noise of the bar.

I look around at the packed pub. "About three, maybe?"

He nods.

"You gonna wait for me?" I ask, kind of joking, but kind of not.

"You want me to?"

I consider giving him a little witty retort, maybe play up the banter we're so good at, but I don't. Instead, I just nod.

His resulting smile is blinding.

I am in _so_ much trouble.

* * *

**- Groms - **Short for 'Grommets'. A surfer term for young surfing kids.**  
**

**- In regards to Embry's birthday - eighteen is when Aussie kids are coconsidered legal adults. At eighteen we can vote, drink, drive without our parents in the car, buy alcohol, get into clubs and bars. Therefore, eighteenth parties are all the rage, as are twenty-firsts, although I'm not sure why the latter.**

* * *

**Tiff, Thimbles and Ink are my team. I love them all.**

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews and for reading :)**

**x Wink**


	17. Seventeen

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. If I did it would NEVER END! *sad face*  
**

**Note: **This one's for you MagTwi**. **I'll just be over here rocking back and forth.**  
**

* * *

**Seventeen**

* * *

My thumb hovers over the call button on my phone.

My arms are aching, my hips, my knees, my ankle – fuck – even my cheeks are aching from plastering a smile on my face all night. After the night I've had at work, I'd like nothing more than to get home, slide into bed, and sleep for about a week. But memories of Edward, and dates, and plaid shirts, are still floating around in my head – so I press _call_.

The phone rings as I slowly begin my walk home. Rose is already home having finished a little earlier, and Jasper is...shit...who knows, probably balls-deep in some skanky tourist chick already.

"Hey, you finished?"

His voice is hushed and sleepy-sounding, but still makes me tingle from head to toe.

"Yeah, I'm just walking home now. Where are you?"

There's a beat of silence. "At home."

It feels like all of my blood falls to my feet the rush of disappointment is so great. "Oh."

"Sorry. I got tired. Big day."

I shrug into the darkness, picking up the pace. "Yeah, of course. It's late anyway."

He yawns, and I imagine him wrapped in his sheets; warm and smelling like sleep.

"You sound disappointed."

"You'd love that," I joke, rolling my eyes.

He chuckles quietly, voice scratchy.

"How was work?"

"Busy. I'm so fucking ready to sleep."

"Is Jasper with you?"

Head down, I walk up our quiet street, the sound of my shoes scuffing the bitumen reverberating around the darkened houses. "Nah, he left with some bleached blonde, mid-life-crisis-housewife."

Edward groans in disgust. Jasper's sexual exploits have become almost nightly over the weekends of late. Sometimes it's the same girl for the whole weekend, and sometimes, on the nights he really turns on the charm, it's a different girl each night. In fact, last Saturday Riles swears he saw Jasper leave with two girls at once.

"So you're walking home alone?" Edward asks, a hint of concern colouring his voice.

"It's two blocks, Edward. Plus I can see my house from here."

"I feel bad now," he admits. "I should have walked you."

"Seriously, I'm..." Just inside the front gate, I stop dead in my tracks as Edward, lit from above by our outside floodlight, stands up, his phone to his ear.

"How long have you been waiting?"

He shrugs. "Dunno. I fell asleep for a bit."

Stepping closer I see he's a little sleep rumpled, his hair is sticking up on one side, and his eyes heavy with weariness. But when he smiles at me, tugging me close by the material of my t-shirt, I think maybe he isn't as tired as he looks.

Without another word, he kisses me for the first time in over a week and it's like every molecule in my body sighs with relief. I'm sure he can hear it - the collective swoon of my cells - but I don't care.

"What's with the shirt?" I ask, tugging at his collar, bringing his lips to mine again.

He smiles, his lips brushing gently over mine, teasing me. "My brother's birthday. Mum made me wear it."

_Thank you, Mrs. Masen._

"I like it." I take a small step back, my shoulders bumping against the front door.

Hooking a finger through the belt loop on my jeans, he pulls me forward again. "It's just a shirt, and it's really fucking uncomfortable actually." His other hand tugs at the narrow fitting button-up.

"Wanna come in?" I ask, trying to calm my trembling knees as he moves me back and forth with the fingers still tucked into my belt loops.

"Will I need to keep this shirt on?" he asks with a smirk.

Unlocking the door, I shake my head.

* * *

On my bed, I sigh as his already familiar weight rests above me, pinning my hips to the mattress. The words _'I missed you'_ hit the back of my lips as my knees spread wider for him, the feeling of rightness washing over me as he settles between them. I try to ignore the way we fit together perfectly, instead focusing on his kisses, on the taste of his lips and mouth. I concentrate on the way his bare skin feels against mine, the way it smells, the sound of his breath close to my ear.

My whole body clenches with anticipation as my fingers dance over his boxer-covered erection, my belly fluttering with desire as I run my thumb over the damp spot at its head. When I make a second pass with my thumb, he jerks suddenly, moving away from my advance.

"Wait. Wait a sec." Scrunching his eyes closed, Edward takes a deep breath, resting his forehead on my chest for a moment.

"What?"

"We need to talk first."

"Now?"

I know exactly what he wants to talk about, but I'm not sure I'm ready to have the conversation. I know we need to have it, I just didn't think we'd be naked whilst doing so.

Half smiling, half rolling his eyes at me, he shifts his weight to one arm as the other slips down to adjust the erection straining against the black cotton of his boxers. When he looks up at me, his blue eyes are bright and clear in the soft light of my bedroom.

"I just don't want to do this if you're going to regret it in the morning." He smiles softly, but seriousness tints his words.

"I'm not going to regret it," I answer quickly.

As unsure as I am about our future, it's the truth. I'm tired of trying to pretend that I don't want him. I want him and I don't care if he knows it. Although, by the way he's looking at me; devouring my half-naked body with his baby-blues, he already knows how much I want him.

"I like you, Edward." I squirm beneath his steely gaze. "I'm just scared that if we sleep together things will get messy."

"Are you worried I'm going to roll over in the morning and propose? It's just sex, Bella," he says with a laugh. "Why don't you just chill out a bit?"

His index finger travels the length of my collarbone, so feather-light I can barely feel it save for the heat of his skin.

"I just want to be around you."

Stopping at the hollow at the base of my neck, he grins, and I know he can feel my pulse fluttering beneath his touch, fluttering just for him.

"I don't care if it's as a friend, or as something else."

All I can do is let out a shuddering sigh as his flattened hand slides up my neck, cupping my jaw. "Can't we just leave it at that?"

My lips are kiss-swollen, my tongue thick and cotton-wool covered as his breath warms my cheek; his kisses dusting the skin at the side of my mouth.

"So, is this like a friends-with-benefits thing?"

"Does it need to have a name?" he asks quietly, teasing me with closed mouth kisses across the arch of my upper lip. "Can't we just be Edward and Bella?"

I nod. "Just Edward and Bella. Okay. Yeah. So we'll just..."

His fingers touch my cheek, turning my lips to his. "Stop talking now."

My fingers grip the short hair at the nape of his neck as he kisses me, his weight returning atop me. His hand slides up my leg, and my body hums as I lift off the bed a little, allowing him space to peel my underwear off.

I can feel his hips pressing against my inner thighs as he rocks into the bed gently, his eyes taking a long, lazy path down my naked body. His bottom lip disappears between his teeth, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. "You're perfect, you know that?"

He doesn't wait for an answer.

Allowing only enough room to slide his hands between us, Edward rests his head in the dip of my shoulder, watching as he slides his fingers over my slick flesh. We both moan,and my hips flex towards him as his fingers touch me, coating us both in my need for him.

My back arches as he presses the pad of his thumb to my clit.

"Jesus," he hisses as his he dips the tip of his finger inside of me. "So fucking...God, you're going to feel so good."

The gentle tremble in my knees has turned into a quaking that ripples through my entire body. Even my breathing is uneven; stuttering from my open mouth in ragged pants and gasps as he teases me, his thumb brushing gently over me as he presses just the tip of his finger in, before pulling out slowly.

His name is the only coherent thought I have. I coats my tongue, my throat, burns deep into my chest as his movements against my centre begin to unravel me.

Wet, open mouthed kisses adorn my chest and stomach, leaving a cool spot on each of my hip bones. When he reaches my inner thigh, I can't help but feel a flutter of nerves in my stomach.

I touch his head gently. "You don't have to..."

He looks up from between my thighs. "Yeah I do. I don't know how long I'm gunna be able to hold out, and...I don't want to hurt you." He rests his head on my thigh as his fingers continue to tease me. "Plus, I kinda want to."

My only reply is a high pitched keening noise that turns into a gasp as his lips join his fingers, kissing and sucking gently, making my toes curl and my head spin.

Motherfucker he's good.

His fingers continue their slow and steady pace, his tongue keeping a steady rhythm as his lips close over me, the heat of his mouth engulfing my pussy. The heat at the centre of my body builds until I think I might burn from the inside out, and when I think I can't take anymore, I feel Edward press a second finger inside of me and my legs begin to shake.

As my orgasm builds, I can't find it in me to be embarrassed when my fingers lace through Edward's hair as I practically ride his mouth. Edward's hand pops out from between my legs to hold my other hand as, with one last pass of his tongue and thrust of his long fingers inside of me, I shatter.

Boneless and panting, I feel Edward move up my body slowly, leaving damp kisses across my abdomen, staining my skin with the scent of my arousal.

"That was hot as fuck," he whispers, and even here, now, in my darkened room, he smiles that smile of his, the one that's captured me from the start.

Undeterred by where his lips have just been, and eager for the feel of his mouth on mine, I lift my head and kiss him, wrapping my legs around his waist. Holding me close we tumble and turn until I'm straddling his lap.

We fumble clumsily with his underwear, and then all at once I can feel him beneath me, pressed against his stomach, thick and hard.

Leaning forward, I kiss the line of his jaw, revelling in the feel of his five o'clock shadow under my lips. When my teeth close gently around the skin below his ear, his hips buck against mine and he grunts, my name an expletive as it hisses from between his lips.

"Do we need a..." He's desperate, I can hear the edge in his voice, feel it in the way his fingers dig into my hips.

I shake my head. "No. It's fine. I'm okay if you are."

He nods, and I lift my hips a little, my hand between us as I grip him gently. I watch him watch me lower myself slowly, and immediately I understand his qualms about hurting me. My mouth drops open as I relax to allow him deeper, feeling myself stretch and shift around him.

Our foreheads pressed together, we both watch as I slide him inside of me slowly. By the time our hips meet, we're both panting loudly.

"Fuck, shit...just...don't move," Edward gasps, his hands gripping my hips tightly, holding me in place.

He kisses me gently, and after a moment lifts his hips experimentally. We both groan loudly, and my hips roll as he moves again, and any lingering discomfort replaced by a feeling that makes my eyes roll back in my head.

Watching his face, I lift up a little, letting him slide out of me slightly, feeling every inch of him. His eyes pop open and his back arches as I slide down again.

His hands grip my hips tighter. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

My nipples brush his chest as I move again, and I whimper as I feel him lift his hips to meet mine on the downward stroke.

I can barely control myself at the sight of Edward so worked up. He's usually so calm and easy going; to see him coming undone beneath me, knowing it's me doing it to him, gives me a jolt of confidence, the taste of possession flavouring my thoughts.

We start a slow rhythm, but it doesn't take long until we're both sweaty and on the edge. I know I won't come again, but the feeling is too good, too much, too fucking perfect.

With his arm between my shoulder blades holding me to him tightly, his hand on the back of my head, Edward kisses me roughly.

"Don't stop. Fuck. Like that," he whispers, and with a grunt he pushes up into me once, twice more, and then his mouth falls slack as he shudders under me.

Utterly spent, I collapse against his damp chest. He breathes deeply, and I hear the whoosh of the air in and out of his lungs. Sweeping the damp hair from the back of my neck, Edward kisses the top of my head softly.

I'm comfortable and restful, pleasantly sated, but there's also a pressing need to clean myself up.

Edward is already dozing beneath me when I slide off him and out of bed. He snorts quietly, opening his eyes.

"Where you going?" he asks, reaching for me.

"The bathroom."

His head flops back onto the pillow. "Oh, yeah, righto."

Moments later, delightfully stretched-tender and raw, I slip back into bed. Half asleep, Edward pulls me into his side and I curl into him with heavy lids and limbs.

"So a date, huh?" he asks, quietly, nudging the edge of sleep.

I grin despite myself. "Yeah."

* * *

**Tiff was a very proud beta mama. Thimbles is my sweet love reader. And Ink gives me the feels because Salty gives her feels.**

** Thanks to everyone reading and reviewing. Very much appreciated. **

**x Wink**


	18. Eighteen

**Disclaimer: I own some Twilight pillows, but that's it. This story, however, is mine.**

* * *

**Seventeen**

_'Wild Love' - Gossling  
_

* * *

"Are there sharks?"

Edward shrugs, looking into the water below him. "The sirens usually warn you if there's a big one around."

I whine, repressing the urge to pull my legs up out of the water. I don't want Edward to think I'm a pussy, but the thought of having my leg chomped off by a great white is more than a little scary .

"Come on, Bells!" yells Paul as he paddles closer, his long, tanned body prone on his board, blonde hair slicked back off his head.

"Shut up, Pauly," laughs Edward, bobbing in the water beside me.

I've finally given in and let Edward take me out into the deep water on a board. I'm not stupid enough to try and stand up yet, but Edward's promised that I'll catch my first wave today, so here I am; shark bait in the middle of the sea. The water is cold, but after a string of days over thirty-five degrees, the cool touch of the water is a welcome reprieve.

I squeal a little as Edward lifts himself up and onto the longboard behind me, my cheek flat to the deck as it wobbles.

"You right, princess?" he teases, wobbling the board violently beneath me.

Steeling myself, I sit up, my legs dangling off the board on either side. "You're such a wanker!"

He chuckles, sliding me backwards until my back is pressed flush against his chest.

"See, how nice it is out here?" he says over my shoulder, his hand resting on my thigh casually.

With just Pauly and a couple of other guys bobbing around nearby, I can understand why Edward enjoys it out here so much. Besides the crushing fear of being eaten alive by a sea-dwelling monster, it's incredibly serene and calm with nothing but the sound of the waves and your own breathing.

"It is nice out here," I whisper, not wanting to sully the quiet with my voice.

A wave rolls beneath us, and, fluid and smooth, the longboard glides up and down.

"Is this where you come to think?"

"Yeah, I guess. I've never had a problem that a surf can't fix."

I smile at his words, leaning back into the curve of his body. My wet hair drips over my chest, hanging in a heavy braid over one shoulder as Edward rests his chin on the other.

"You could just sit here all day and let the world go by. Except that your skin would get all wrinkly." I bring my hands up to my face, staring at my wrinkled fingertips. "But it's so quiet, you could just get lost in your thoughts. Hey, maybe you should get a boat or something, then you could be out on the ocean all the time, and you wouldn't get eaten. Have you seen a shark out here before? Has anyone been eaten at Clearwater?"

"You're cute when you ramble."

Turning my head a little, I find Edward watching me with a smile on his face.

"I'm not rambling, I'm…musing."

"Right," he says, planting a kiss on my damp cheek. "Well, if you're finished musing, you wanna head in? We're starting to drift a little here."

Pulling my legs up onto the board, I shift myself forward towards the nose; my knees bent up underneath me like Edward showed me.

"Just hold on, okay?" he whispers, his mouth close to my ear.

I nod as my knuckles whiten, my fingers wrapped so tightly around the side of the board, I feel like I might leave fingertip-sized indents in it.

Paddling hard, Edward propels us forward, a wave catching us from behind until suddenly we're in its clutches. The water pushes the board ahead, and with an effortless movement Edward is on his feet, the length of the board allowing him room to stand behind me as we glide through the wave. Perched on the nose of the board as it skims across the water, it feels like I'm weightless, and my heart is beating so hard I can feel it in my fingertips. The adrenaline pumps through my bloodstream even as I relax a little, lifting myself up onto my knees.

"Put your arms out," calls Edward behind me, and with shaky hands, I extend my arms at my side until I really am flying, the salt spray air whipping around me as the wave crashes around the board. Edward laughs as I squeal with delight, doing his best to keep us steady. After a moment, the wave has run its course, and I can't keep myself on the board any longer as it jerks and jumps beneath me. Finally, the wave rolls up beside us, curling over itself and smashing into my side, sending me tumbling off the board and into the water.

A rush of water whooshes past my ears, and then it's quiet except for the rumble of the waves crashing overhead. I take a moment to gain my bearings, and then kick my legs hard until I break the surface. Flipping my wet hair out of my eyes and wiping the water out of my nose, I immediately look for Edward.

I can hear him laughing already, somewhere at my right. I wipe the saltwater from my eyes again and look around, smiling as I see him and his board floating towards me.

"Oh my god!" I squeal, my heart still thundering in my chest. "That was fucking awesome!"

He laughs; reaching for me as the water rises and falls, pushing us closer to the beach. Unsuccessfully, he tries to pull me onto the board, but the ocean has other ideas and he slides off and into the water beside me.

Using the board to keep myself afloat, I giggle manically, unable to keep it inside.

"Shoulda seen your face," laughs Edward, his arms resting on the board beside mine. "Classic."

I slap his arm gently. "Shut up!" My heart begins to calm as the adrenaline dissipates. "Is that what it's like every time?"

Smiling, Edward nods. "Most of the time. Especially when it's big waves; when it's surf or smash face-first into the water."

"I get it now," I admit. "I can see how it can be addictive."

"You wanna go again?" he asks, his hand brushing my hip under the water.

My body flushes with excitement, both at the idea of going again, and at the sight of this beautiful man in front of me; my very own sun god.

I pull myself up on the board, the action easier and easier every time, and Edward jumps on behind me, ready to paddle us back out. We catch wave after wave, until we're both absolutely exhausted. My arms are like jelly, and I think there's more saltwater in my hair and up my nose than there is in the ocean. But now I can finally say I've been out into the deep water, I've surfed - kind of - and I would totally and completely do it all again.

Out past the breakers where the water is calmer, Edward and I sit floating on the longboard, my legs draped over his, our feet in the water.

"You wanna come over tonight?" he asks, a smirk lifting the side of his mouth.

My hands slide up his thighs, resting on his narrow hips. "To your place?"

He nods, his eyes gleaming.

"Never been to your place."

He kisses me once, quickly, tasting of salt. "Nope."

"You live with your parents, yeah?"

He paddles the board slightly, keeping us from drifting too far. "Is that a problem?"

"Nope. You forget I lived with my parents until not long ago."

"So you'll come over then?"

I smile deviously. "What will I get if I do?"

He raises his eyebrows at me, looking at me as if to say 'you know what you'll get'.

My cheeks colour and I nod. "Sounds like a fair deal."

He laughs quietly. "You're a fiend, you know that?"

His reference to my inability to control myself around him makes me smile. And he's completely right, even after spending the entire day with him, I'm looking forward to spending the night too. I'm insatiable, and I don't quite know what to think since I've never been like this before. Sex with Jake was always nice, a little repetitive towards the end, but familiar and just...nice. Sex with Edward is not nice; it's fucking perfect. It's fantastic and hot and sweet and about a dozen other adjectives that no matter how great they are will not describe it adequately. Since our first night together, I've made a conscious effort to stop over-thinking things, and just go with the flow. So far, the flow is turning out to be pretty damn good.

Bobbing on the board in the middle of the sea, our kisses taste like saltwater and familiarity. He knows exactly how to kiss me to make me crazy; the pressure of his lips, slow and lazy against mine. The board wobbles beneath us as our kisses become heated, my skin flushed and warm from more than just the sun above us.

"Get a room!" yells a voice across the water, and we turn to see Riley paddling in. He splashes us as he passes, and my first instinct is to pull away from Edward, and he knows it. Holding me close with one hand, he flips Riley his middle finger with the other.

"Fuck off, dickhead!" he yells, as Riley laughs loudly, there one moment and gone the next, swallowed up by the waves.

Edward turns back to me, kissing me once more before his hands slip from around my waist. "Ready to go back in then?"

* * *

Tired, and a little achy from all the swimming, I arrive home late afternoon to find a redhead slipping out the front door of the flat. With a kiss on the cheek, and a tap on the ass, Jasper sends the googly-eyed girl on her way.

I frown, watching her almost trip over a shrub as she looks back at Jasper over her shoulder.

"I hope you wake up one morning with a hideous case of genital warts."

"What?"

"She was hideous, Jasper. Beer goggles or not, you're standards are slipping."

He shrugs. "Someone in this house has to be getting some."

"Who says you're the only one?"

Jasper's expression is a mixture of revulsion and begrudging happiness as he holds out his hand for a high five. "You and Edward finally sealed the deal, huh?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes."

"Nice work, Edward!" he laughs. "Never thought I'd see the day he got a girl."

"I'm not his girl. I'm just...we're just..." My hands flail in front of me. "It's just a thing, okay?"

Jasper shrugs. "Whatever. As long as I don't come home to find you bent over the kitchen bench, you two can do whatever the fuck you like."

Snorting, I take my achy ass to the bathroom to wash off a day's worth of salt and sand. The warm water is heaven on my muscles, although the tops of my shoulders are a little tender from the sun, a closer inspection revealing a brand new dusting of freckles along with the faint tint of sunburn.

Smelling like Shea butter body wash, I dry myself and slather on some aloe, making sure to add extra to my sun-freckled shoulders. Fresh, dressed, smelling like a million bucks, I wander out into the kitchen to find something to eat. With Rosie at work, the house is quiet; the only sound, the hum of the TV in Jasper's bedroom.

He's on his bed as I walk by, sprawled out on the sheets, a bowl of cereal in his hand.

"Can I come in?"

He nods, patting the bed beside him.

His room smells like typical boy, but I'm just glad it doesn't smell like skanky redhead sex. He watches TV as I look around his room, looking at all his trophies from SLC days. There are two huge posters adorning his walls, both of surfers, huge blue waves and clear-blue skies. One of them is signed, a black signature scrawled across the bottom in marker, the name unreadable. He's dark-haired and buff, broad shouldered and well-muscled, dimples adorning his angelic looking cheeks.

Moving to the second poster, my breath catches in my throat, and I almost choke on my sandwich.

"Oh my God," I say loudly. "That's Edward."

He's crouched low on his board, his fingers reaching out to skim the inside of a massive barrel as he charges through it. I have to blink a few times to make sure i'm not imagining it.

Jas looks up from his Weetbix momentarily. "Yep."

"But..." I stare open-mouthed at the huge glossy poster. "It says Rio De Janeiro. When was Edward in Brazil?"

"A few years ago with the Pro."

"The what?"

Milk drips from the corner of Jasper's mouth as he looks at me like I've just grown an extra tit. Wiping it his mouth, he sets his bowl down on the bedside table and crosses the bedroom.

"The Pro Tour. Has Edward not told you anything?"

"About what?"

Rubbing his hand over his freshly shaved sides and down his face, Jasper sighs. "Fuck me."

"Ugh, no thanks."

"Bella. Edward's ranked in the top forty surfers in the world. Or he was anyway."

"That's good, right?"

Jasper barks out a laugh. "That's fucking awesome."

"Oh."

"His brother, Emmett, is in the top five."

"Also good?"

"Hell yeah."

I look back and forth between Jasper and the poster. "I'm thinking you need to tell me more about this pro thing."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jasper leans against the wall beside the poster. "Ed was ranked number six at the ASP World Tour a few years back."

"The what?"

He grunts, frustrated. "Like a professional surfing world tour."

"Oh, like Kelly Slater does?"

"Exactly! So, until about two years ago, both Edward and Emmett were on the ASP World Championship Tour. They did well too. Emmett came close to winning, and Edward wasn't far behind."

"So...Edward isn't just a good surfer - he's kind of the best?"

Jasper snorts. "Well, when Emmett's not around, yeah."

"So how come he doesn't tour anymore?"

Jasper's expression changes almost imperceptibly, his mouth set in a more serious line.

"His brother, Embry, got sick, so he decided to come home."

"Oh." I think back to the night at the bar, to the healthy looking eighteen-year-old. "But he's better now though, right?"

"Yeah, he's fine. Nothing a little treatment couldn't fix."

As my brain absorbs all these bits of information, I look back at the poster, drawn to the look on Edward's face; the determination, the way his mouth, even as it hangs open a little, lifts at one side, as if he's about to smile one of his signature retina-burning smiles.

"So, now that Embry's better, will Edward go back on tour?"

Jasper is silent, scratching the side of his head as he thinks. "Uh, I think maybe I've already said enough. That's probably something you should ask him."

* * *

**Weetbix:** A breakfast cereal made of wholegrain wheat, fashioned into a little brick sort of thing. You pour milk on top, or sometimes they're good dry with jam or honey on top.

**ASP (Association of Surfing Professionals):** The governing body in professional surfing. To give you an idea; at the moment Australia's Joel Parkinson is #1 and Kelly Slater is #2 - #6 is REALLY good.

**WTC (World Championship Tour):** Includes events like The RipCurl Pro at Bells Beach, the Hurley Pro at Trestles in CA, and the Billabong Pro in Rio. I'll give more information on that when it comes up.

* * *

**ooooooh, excited? I am. **

**Tiff and Thimbles and Ink are the honey to my peanut butter.**

**Thanks to everyone still reading and reviewing, I appreciate it a lot.**

**x Wink**


	19. Nineteen

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I haven't seen BD2 yet. I'm scared.**

* * *

**Nineteen**

* * *

I'm left reeling at Jasper's revelations.

Edward - a world-class surfer.

The notion doesn't seem silly to me at all. In fact, it makes perfect sense. If he'd said he was a world-class chess player I'd have been more surprised. But the fact that I didn't know, and more importantly, wasn't told – makes me feel a little stupid, like an in-joke I wasn't aware I was the butt of.

An eddy of warm sea-air whips around me, blowing my sundress against my legs and my hair around my face. I peel my hair from my lip-gloss, tucking the sticky strands behind my ear.

Why didn't he tell me?

Did he think I already knew?

_Oh, God. _My mind reels back to all the stupid comments I've made about his surfing being "pretty good". I slap a palm to my forehead._ Idiot._

Looking back, all the pieces of the mysterious Edward puzzle click into place; the seemingly endless supply of money, the fact that he's never had _time_ for a girlfriend, and the way people in town seem to flock to him.

Has my head been _that_ far up my ass? How did I miss this?

Making the left turn into Edward's street, I try to sort through the myriad of questions in my head, figuring out which one to tackle first. I check the house number Jasper scrawled on the back of my hand, and then the time on my phone.

Six o'clock – I'm early.

Edward's parent's house is both everything and nothing like I thought it would be. A few streets back from the beach; it sits nestled in a quiet street in the older part of town, one of the few places untouched by ultra-modern mega-mansions and housing estates. Neat and tidy, the 1960's white weatherboard is partially hidden by a beautiful, established garden; full of yellow-blossomed wattle and splashes of bright purple bougainvillea. Beach towels hang, flip-flapping in the wind, over a railing on the veranda, black wetsuits hanging alongside. Something about it feels unmistakably like home, or it would if you lived here.

As I push open the front gate, the hinge creaks, and a head pops up from a garden bed on my right, startling me a little. As she straightens, I spy honey-coloured hair poking out from her hat; its distinctive hue a dead giveaway as to her identity.

"Hello," she says, pulling a pair of soil-covered garden gloves off.

"Um – hey - hello," I reply, trying not to sound timid. "Is Edward around?"

She looks at me for a moment, green eyes sizing me up from beneath a worn straw hat. "Yeah, he's down the back. It's Bella, isn't it?"

I nod, smiling.

"I'm Esme, Edward's mum. It's nice to finally meet you."

This time I blush, and she grins, catching the pink as it washes my cheeks.

"Don't worry," she says, shifting her garden clippers from one hand to the other. "He only says good things."

Shifting uncomfortably, I finger the thin leather belt at my waist. "Oh, well...that's very nice of him."

Esme smiles again, and it's easy to see where Edward gets his easy nature from. "Down the driveway on the left, you can't miss it."

Leaving Esme to her gardening, I cross the lawn and make my way down the short gravel driveway to the backyard. Under the carport lies a myriad of kids bikes and play things, a store's worth of surfboards all resting in various places around the outside of the house, some in covers, some not. Right down the far end of the backyard, I spy a bungalow; a tiny little room tucked at the back of the yard, its glass sliding door slightly ajar, the inside dark and quiet. Treading carefully around trucks and Frisbees, I step around a blue, shell-shaped kiddie pool filled with water, and under a set of worn-looking monkey bars, wondering just how many Masen kids there are hidden around the place.

Sliding open the door a little more, I slip inside, hit immediately with Edward's scent intensified. His room smells deep and spicy, like his skin in the sun, like surfboard wax and peppermint gum. It's heady and makes every nerve in my body twitch with delight, tingling beneath my skin like an electric charge. The lights are off; the only sound the quiet strum of music from an iPod dock hidden somewhere. Sprawled on top of his doona, fast asleep, his long golden legs hanging off the side of his bed, is Edward. I stand watching him for a moment, my earlier worries dissipating as I watch him sleep peacefully. His arms are tucked under a pillow, his cheek smooshed against the white cotton slip, perfect pink lips open a little as he breathes steadily. Sitting gently on the bed beside him, I can't help but notice the way his shorts sit low on his hips, the way his lower back dips down gently before sloping upwards to his perfect narrow hips and ass.

And to think, those boy-hairy legs, covered with sandy-coloured hair, have traversed the world, surfed tropical beaches and probably seen things I'll never see in my lifetime – and all by age of twenty-five.

A warm hand slides across my lower back and around my hip, and I turn to see a pair of sleepy-looking blue eyes looking up at me. Without a word, he pulls me down beside him, his arms tucking me into his side as he closes his eyes again.

"Hey," he says, taking a deep, relaxed breath in as he buries his head into the crook of my neck.

I'm frozen in place, at war with my body and my brain. My body, warmed by the sun beaming through the glass door, and by the boy with his arms wrapped around me, is alight with Edward's nearness. My brain however, is still ticking over as I look around, taking in the trophies and ribbons that adorn his walls.

Moving away slightly, Edward squeezes my hips lightly, his brow creased. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"How come you didn't tell me?"

"About what?"

"About the fact that you're like Kelly fucking Slater around here."

Understanding colours his features. "Oh."

I'm waiting for him to explain himself, but instead he just laughs. "I'm sorry; I'm not laughing at you. I promise."

I shove him in the chest, turning my back to him as I sit up, my legs hanging off the bed. "No! I'm angry, Edward."

"Bella," he says between chuckles, tugging at my arm, trying to pull me down next to him again. "Come on, come back here."

"No!" I pout. "And can you put a shirt on please? I can't be angry at you when you're…" I wave a hand at his bare chest.

"What was I s'posed to say?" he asks, smiling. "Would it have made a difference if I'd told you?"

"Yes. I mean, no, it wouldn't have made a difference. But maybe I wouldn't feel like such a dickhead for not knowing."

Sitting up, Edward tucks himself up behind me, his chin resting on my shoulder, he's silent for a moment, the quiet in and out of his breath the only sound I can hear.

"Do you know why I wanted you so bad that first night?" he says quietly a moment later, his fingers dancing absently across my lower back.

"You mean apart from my gams?"

He smirks, and I can feel his cheek brush against my ear. "Apart from your legs and that fine ass of yours."

"Was it my stellar personality? My winning sense of humour?"

Pulling me backwards and rolling on top of me, Edward buries his face in my neck as his fingers dig into my ribs, making me giggle and squirm beneath him. When I'm red-faced and panting, he stops, lifting his head to kiss me softly just once.

"It was because you didn't give a shit who I am. You didn't even give me your real name for fucks sake!"

We both smile at the memory.

"You were just this smart mouth chick with a nice ass, who thought I was some beach bum."

"I still think you're a beach bum."

"Anyway," he says, ignoring my retort. "What was I gunna say? _Don't you know who I am? _How do you tell someone something like that?"

Pressing my hands against his chest, I push him backwards until we've swapped positions and I'm straddling his hips.

"You could have said; I'm Edward fucking Masen, bronze-haired beach god and surfing extraordinaire!" My hands gesticulate wildly.

His hands slide up my thighs and under my dress, squeezing my ass tightly. "I thought about that," he says pulling me closer. "But then you called me pretty, and bent over to get me a Corona…"

I cover his mouth with mine, silencing him with a kiss.

"I should be pissed off, Edward." With my chin resting atop his chest, he's all I can see; golden lashes brushing against skin dusted with light freckles as he looks down at me.

He sits up a little bit - as much as he can with 60-odd kilos on top of him anyway. "Why aren't you?"

Breathing deep, I close my eyes. I want to be upset with him, in fact, I probably should be upset, and I have every right to be. But I'm not. I figure that if I can be the safe haven he needs, the place he can go to feel normal, then so be it. It's not like he was keeping some hideously painful secret from me, and really, if I'd taken my fucking blinders off, I would have seen it months ago. Apparently I get a little oblivious where hot boys are concerned.

Opening my eyes, I find him still looking down at me. He brushes his fingers over the shell of my ear, letting them slide across my cheek.

"It's not like I don't feel a little upset that I didn't know. But to be honest, it's probably my pride more than anything." I groan, burying my face against his chest. "All the stupid things I said."

He laughs, and we roll over again, this time until we're on our sides facing each other.

"If it makes you feel any better, I figured you'd work it out one day." His brow creases. "How did you find out?"

"Jasper."

He groans, shaking his head. "Fucking Jasper."

I smile, shifting a little closer until we're almost chest to chest.

"So you're not pissed off?" asks Edward, and my skin prickles as he runs a finger gently up and down my arm. I'm sure the move is meant to be comforting, but being this close to him clouds my mind, and all I can think about is him, and how right it feels to be near him.

I sigh. "No. But you can grovel if it makes you feel better."

"Me? Grovel?" His eyes flicker between my face and the top of my tits as they peek out the top of my dress. "But I'm Edward fucking Masen, bronze-hair…"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, I silence him. "We had a deal."

His brows pull together, and I remove my hand from his lips. "I don't remember a deal."

Sliding my hand down his shorts, I palm him through the material, revelling in the way his mouth pops open and his eyes darken.

"You don't remember anything?" I ask mockingly, increasing my pressure, and enjoying the jerk of his hips against my hand.

Not one to be out done, Edward leans forward, his hips shifting into my hand, his mouth at my neck. His fingers draw my hair aside as his lips leave cool, damp spots over the skin of my throat and jaw line. "I think I'm starting to remember." Warm breath washes over the damp skin of my neck, sending a shudder down my spine, all the way between my legs, where already the blood is pulsing with need.

Nodding, I try to keep myself from writhing against him as his lips dance over my neck softly. "Uh-huh. You called me a fiend if I'm not mistaken."

He chuckles quietly in my ear, and the sound makes me arch against him as the shockwaves ripple through me.

"You are," he insists, slipping the strap of my dress from my shoulder. "You wear me out, woman."

"Woman!" I baulk, teasing. "Excuse me, Mr. Pro-Surfer, you should have the…" My breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh as his mouth closes over the skin above my thundering heart, my blood pooling at the surface of my skin as he sucks gently. "…stamina to keep up with me."

He laughs, lifting his head from my chest and pinning my arms at my sides, pressing me into the bed. "Oh, I've got the stamina," he says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "You wanna test it out?"

Still beneath him on the bed, I giggle as his kisses tickle the skin of my décolletage. "You sure you don't want another nap, old man?"

He silences me with a wry look and a kiss that leaves me breathless and dizzy. As Edward moves his leg, pressing his thigh between mine, I spy a little blonde head over his shoulder, the sunshine highlighting golden curls framing a pair of bright blue eyes.

"I think we have an audience." I squeeze Edward's shoulders, pushing him away lightly.

Edward turns, groaning as he palms himself through his shorts. "Fuck," he whispers. "Eli! What are you doing? Where's Mum?"

The toddler stands silently, ignoring Edward as he looks at me instead, his sparkly little eyes frozen in wonder, a Tonka truck hanging from one hand.

"Another one?" I ask quietly, gesturing to the little boy. "How many of you are there?"

"Five."

Suddenly, a pair of hands wrap themselves under Eli's arms and whisk him up and out of the room. Embry's head pops in a moment later, his face apologetic. "Sorry!"

I watch as he tosses the little boy over his shoulder and carries the giggling toddler back across the lawn towards the house. Obviously, Embry is nanny for the afternoon.

"Five kids?" I repeat, and Edward nods.

"Four boys, one girl."

I think back to the delicately-framed woman I met in the front yard, wondering how on Earth she popped out five kids and managed to stay looking so good.

"See, this is why we go to your place," moans Edward, sighing dramatically.

Rolling my eyes, I stand up and stomp over to the door separating us from the outside world. With a huff, I close it, lock it, and pull the blinds closed.

"It's not that hard, Edward."

He smirks, opening his mouth to reply, but I silence him with a hand. "Don't even."

A matter of seconds after returning to the bed, my dress is on the floor beside Edward's shorts, and he's making short work of my bra.

We take our time, learning each other with lazy touches and whispers, and soon I'm aching and wet and so ready for him. I've never been needy like this before, never wanted someone the way I want Edward. It's scary and exhilarating at the same time.

The inside of my thighs smart as he settles between them, and I know there will be bruises the perfect shape and size of his hip bones soon enough; little reminders of times like this. He rocks into me, burying himself in one swift movement, his arm flexing above me as he uses the bed head for support. My back arches off the bed as he starts to rock forward slowly. It's almost impossible to do, but I try to keep quiet, not knowing who's lurking outside his door. But when he sits back on his haunches, pulling me astride his legs, I have to bite my lip. I feel the burn as he goes deeper than before; feel myself stretch around him as we rock together.

"Oh, fuck."

With my hands wrapped around his neck, I grip his shoulders, using them as leverage as I roll my hips against his, edging closer and closer to orgasm with each move. My head lolls against his shoulder as Edward's movements intensify, and I know he's close when his thrusts begin to lift us both off the bed.

"Look at me," he rasps, his voice a breathy whisper against my collarbone. I lift my head to look at him, and his index finger brushes across my lower lip, pressing it into my mouth and across my tongue. He slides the finger out of my mouth and down between us. When he presses it right above where we're joined, I cry out, biting my lip in an attempt to keep quiet. But when he starts whispering, his hips meeting mine with a jolt, I can feel myself beginning to unravel.

"You like that?" His dark, stormy blue is almost hidden behind heavy-lids, his cheeks pink from exertion. "You like that, baby?"

My fingernails dig into the skin of his shoulders as my legs begin to shake. "Yeah, right there. Oh…don't stop."

The euphoria builds and builds until suddenly it crashes over me, the waves of my orgasm washing over me as Edward continues to push up into me, whispering my name into my skin as he follows, his movements pulling every last shudder and moan from me that he can.

Breathless, boneless, floating on a post-orgasmic haze, we lie under his cotton sheets. I'm sweaty and my hair is damp around my temples, the sheets beneath me are sticky and smell like our sex, but I wouldn't move even if I wanted to. He's on his stomach and fast asleep already, breathing steadily, his arm stretched out seeking my skin, his hand draped over my stomach.

Seeping into my dreamy state is the creeping notion that at some point this will end. One day, and one day soon, he's going to leave again. He can't stay here anymore than I could have stayed in Forks, and I won't be the one to make him do it. My stomach twists painfully at the idea of being in Clearwater without him. But I'm not his girlfriend; he doesn't owe me anything, and I've made it clear I don't want that. So for now, I have to enjoy him while he's here, make the most of our time together, and hopefully, when it comes time for him to go, I can let him go knowing we'll both be okay.

As his fingers tighten across my stomach, instinctively drawing me close, even I know I'm lying to myself.

* * *

**Wattle and Bougainvillea** - Native to Australia, Wattle is a tree with beautiful yellow blossom on it. Bougainvillea, while not native to Australia, is common in our gardens. It's a vine with lovely purple flowers on it.

* * *

**Tiff, Thimbles and Ink are my Beta Team. **

**I'm tired. No witty tonight. Love. Hugs. Gropes. Wink**


	20. Twenty

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but a broken heart from BD2.**

* * *

**Twenty**

* * *

With Christmas fast approaching, the town is bursting at the seams. School holidays are looming, the weeks dwindling to just days before the place explodes with tourists. The temperature climbs well into the thirties and stays there. Gone are the cool nights that give reprieve; mid-December bringing balmy nights and sweltering sun, stretches of long, hot days that could send you insane.

Between Edward's surfing and shifts at the store, and my nights at the bar, time alone with him has been few and far between.

But finally, on a Tuesday night, we find a night off together, and Edward decides to take me out.

I'm straightening my hair when Rose pops her head into the bathroom.

"Bow-chicka-wow-wow!" she teases, pinching my butt.

I yelp, swatting at her hand with the red hot tool in my hand. Dodging my snapping straightener, she takes it from me and picks up a section I've missed at the back of my head, sliding it through the plates.

"Where you going?" she asks, concentrating on not burning my dry, sun-bleached ends.

"Edward mentioned something about Six-Mile Beach."

She grins, shaking her head, before getting back to the task at hand.

"What?"

"No, nothing," Rosie answers quietly. "It's just strange seeing him do all this romantic stuff."

The first person I'd bailed up after learning about Edward's pro-surfing history was Rosie. She apologised for not saying anything, telling me that once it got to a certain point she figured it was probably up to Edward to tell me. Needless to say, Jasper got a hiding once Rose and Edward got a hold of him.

"You gunna come down and watch him at the Pro next year?"

I nod, looking in the mirror as I apply a swipe of sticky, pink lip-gloss, frowning at the lurid colour before wiping it off.

Edward spent some time trying to explain the way the ASP ranking system worked. It was all very confusing, with lots of numbers and points. But from what I understand, he's been offered a wildcard position on the World Championship Tour. Normally, having been off the circuit for so long, Edward would have had to re-qualify for a position, but his past history with the tour, and ranking at his time of departure, meant that he was given special circumstance, and awarded a place in the top forty-four – something that was done for only the very best.

What this meant was that next year he would be off, up to the Gold Coast for a comp, and then back closer to home, to Bells Beach, for another. After that, it was on to places like French Polynesia, California, and the south-west coast of France. All in all, ten destinations scattered across the world, spread out over almost ten months. He had yet to give the tour an answer either way, but I had a feeling he was going to take it.

"You think he'll do alright?" I ask, flattening my dress over my hips.

Rose moves to stand in front of me, leaning against the vanity.

"Hard to say. This Wilson kid looks like he's going to be tough. And God knows Emmett will keep Edward on his toes."

"Emmett's his brother, right?"

Rosie nods, and I watch as her expression softens ever so slightly.

"Where is he at the moment?"

Twisting her hair around her hand, Rosie gathers it over one shoulder as she shrugs. "Hawaii, I think."

"And are they competitive, he and Edward?"

Rosie nods emphatically. "Emmett's been trying to keep Edward off his heels since he picked up a board. Everything is competition between those two."

I smirk, something I realize I've been doing more since meeting Edward. "Did they ever compete for your affection?"

Rose snorts. "What is this, fifteenth-century England? No. Plus, Edward's just…" She screws up her face. "He's just Edward – the kid that pushed me off the monkey bars when I was six."

"What?"

"Little turd," says Rose, rubbing her right arm. "I broke my arm and everything."

I gasp and Rosie smiles wryly, handing me a clear gloss for my lips. "He felt so bad, he cried for ages, and then he carried my Power Rangers lunchbox for weeks."

"Aw."

"Yeah, when he's not being a dick, Edward's a good guy – always has been."

I lower my head, unable to stop from smiling. "Yeah, he is."

Rose takes a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't know how to say this without sounding like a bitch, so I'm just going to say it. I love you, Bella, I do. You're a good housemate, a great friend, and you make pretty mean pasta bake. But I swear, if you break Edward's heart, I'll break your nose."

I laugh, despite her words. "I don't think you have anything to worry about. He'll take off next year and I'll be nothing but a distant memory."

Rosie frowns, her blue eyes serious. "Is that what you think is going to happen?"

Trying to play it off, I shrug. I don't want to think about it ten minutes before Edward is due to pick me up. "Hey, can I borrow those little flats with the bow on them? The white ones?"

I try not to squirm under her gaze, fluffing my shiny-sleek straightened hair. When she moves around me to get the shoes, I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

Although Edward hasn't given any indication as to what his decision will be regarding the tour, I know in my heart that leaving is the right thing for him. What I won't tell him is that when he leaves, there will be a part of me leaving with him. As hard as I've tried not to fall for him, I have; hard. My days are spent thinking about him, wondering when I'll get to see him. My heart leaps at every text message, every smirk, every mention of his name, and it's getting harder to hide the fact that maybe I don't want to just be 'Bella' to him. But I don't want him to think that he has to stay for me. Jake did it to me; I won't do that to Edward.

Rosie returns with the flats in hand and sits on the edge of the bath as I slip them on. She toys with the ends of her hair, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"Have you had your hair cut?" I ask, eying her suspiciously.

Rosie nods. "Just a trim."

I lean in close, so close I can see the smattering of light freckles covering her nose. "Did you get your eyebrows waxed too?"

She leans away from me, covering her forehead with the palm of hand. "What? No. I mean, yeah, but ... the other day."

"What's going on? What aren't you telling me? Are you keeping secrets, Rosie Hale?"

Rolling her eyes, and holding her hand to her ear like a phone, she says, "Hello, Pot? This is Kettle."

I slap her hand away from her ear. "Shut up and tell me why you're getting all dolled up. You run away like a little bitch when I try to pluck your eyebrows, then suddenly you're having hot waxed poured on them? Spill it, Rosie."

Rose lets out a sound of disbelief before looking me straight in the eye. "Tell me about you and Edward. Tell me why you're not telling him the truth about how you feel."

_Shit._

My mouth closes so quickly my teeth snap loudly. "Touché."

I plop down beside her on the bath, and we sit in silence for a minute or so as Rosie looks at me expectantly.

"Do you think he knows?" I ask quietly.

Rose shakes her head. "Dunno. Maybe. I only know because you and I are so similar. You're acting exactly the way I would if I knew I was setting myself up for heartbreak."

"He's not going to break my heart, Rose."

"I know he won't. You're doing a pretty good job of it on your own."

My shoulders slump as I exhale loudly. "I just want to spend time with him before he goes. I mean, once he's gone, who knows where he'll end up. He could end up in California with some hot American swimsuit model."

Rose snorts. "That doesn't really seem like Edward's style."

"Hot swimsuit models are everyone's style, Ro. Look at Miranda Kerr."

She smiles, nodding in agreement. "She is pretty hot. And Jen Hawkins."

I groan, imagining the six-foot blonde, ex-Miss Universe flirting with Edward. "Stop!"

We giggle for a moment, and I rest my head on her shoulder, the smell of her freshly washed and styled hair a strange comfort.

"Wait a minute!" I screech, holding her hand up in front of me. "Did you get a manicure?!"

As Rosie pulls her hand out of mine, there are three loud knocks at the front door, followed by three rings of the bell. Only Edward would be so obnoxious.

Standing, I fluff my hair one more time and turn back to her. "This isn't over."

When I open the front door, Edward's standing on the front step, his hands in his pockets, looking a little awkward.

"Hey."

He smiles, taking his hand out of his pocket to run it through his hair. "Hey."

"How come you knocked? You always just walk in."

"I know, but it's good date etiquette to knock."

"Date etiquette?"

He shrugs. "There's a book and all."

"Oh. And you read it?" I ask, playing along.

He shakes his head. "Nah, I got the talking books, took some notes."

"Nice. So where are my flowers?"

Edward's mouth falls open, and he looks around for a moment before ripping out a bunch of yellow daises from the garden beside the front door.

"Hey, that's my garden, asshole!" yells Rose from behind me as Edward hands me the bunch of flowers, dirt still hanging from their roots, a few weeds interspersed among the blooms.

"Smooth," pipes up Rose, standing behind me.

"I aim to please," says Edward. "So, ready?"

I nod, feeling a little tongue-tied as I take in his appearance. He's replaced his board shorts with proper casual shorts, made of real cotton material. Over his ever-present thread-bare t-shirt, he's thrown another button-up shirt, leaving it open. The sight of him makes my mouth go dry, and all the thoughts just fly out of my head.

"Bella?"

"What?"

"Where's your bag?" asks Rose, both her and Edward looking at me like I've lost my shit.

"Oh, yep. Gimme a sec."

I leave Edward and Rosie waiting at the front door, high-tailing it into my bedroom. A few minutes later, after rooting around my room for what felt like a millennia, and finally finding my purse lodged between my bed and the wall, I step back out to find Rose and Edward in a quiet, but heated discussion.

They stop abruptly as Edward looks up at me.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," says Rose with a smile.

"Got it?" asks Edward. His usually light blue eyes are dark, his expression tight.

I lift my purse in the air. "Yep."

I pass Rose, who just smiles as I take Edward's outstretched hand. "Don't wait up," I whisper.

She rolls her eyes, but grins anyway.

* * *

Edward is quiet on the drive out of town, and I can almost hear the cogs ticking over in his brain.

"Hey," I say quietly, trying to get his attention. "What's up?"

Taking a deep breath, he shakes his head. "Nah, nothing." He looks over, lifting his glasses off his nose for a moment. "You look pretty. I forgot to say that before."

I don't know why, but I blush. "Thanks. You look pretty good yourself. I like your shirt."

He tugs at the collar a little. "Yeah, well, you liked the other one so much I thought I'd give it another go."

With the windows open the warm afternoon air drifts through the van, sending my hair whipping around my face. The loud whining and vibrations of Edward's car have become so familiar to me, just like the smell of old leather and the 'new car smell' trees he hangs from the rear view mirror.

"So, all those competitions, and all that money, and you still drive this piece of shit," I say over the loud rumble of his engine.

"Hey!" Edward protests, rubbing his hand across the dash. "I love this thing. I bought it with my very own money."

He whispers softly to the car, cooing at it not to listen to me. To be honest, I couldn't imagine him in anything else.

The road begins to quiet as it winds down off the cliff-side, the bitumen soon turning into gravel as we get closer to the water. The sign for Six-Mile Beach appears, and Edward turns off, and after finding somewhere to park, we jump out.

"A picnic?" I ask, pointing to an Esky as he lifts it out of the back of the van.

He nods, tossing a blanket over my arm. "Nothing flash though."

I grin as he offers his arm like a dapper gentleman. "I'm not a flash date anyway."

Leading me over a worn little track in the bushes, Edward takes me up to a set of massive sand dunes, their slopes dotted with grey-green grasses and tiny little white flowers. The beach itself is nothing short of spectacular. Long and perfectly untouched, it stretches as far as I can see before ending at the base of the cliffs. The water is calm, the waves rolling in and out at a lazy pace, the seagulls circling over the water, cawing loudly.

I spread the blanket out as Edward digs into his little cooler.

Sitting beside me, he hands me a little Glad wrapped sandwich, looking sheepish. "It's only Vegemite. Or there's peanut butter if you want that."

The giggle that escapes my lips is girlish and soaked with adoration for this silly, stupid boy. "Vegemite is fine, thanks."

We chat quietly as we eat, scared to raise our voices in such a beautiful, peaceful place. The seagulls hop over as we toss them our scraps, and I file away the fact that Edward doesn't eat his crusts for later use.

"So, what was Rosie saying to you at home that had you looking all pissy?"

Edward produces a punnet of strawberries with a flourish, and I clap my hands, smiling.

"She told me if I break your heart she'll cut my balls off."

He looks like he's telling the truth, but there's also something else there, something hidden under the surface.

"Oh, yeah? She said the same thing to me."

"She said she'd cut your balls off?"

I throw a half-eaten strawberry at him. "She said she'd break my nose."

He laughs, but doesn't say anything else. The words just kind of hang in the air, their implication lost somewhere between us.

He doesn't bring it up again, but neither do I. Instead, as the sun begins to set, he kisses me.

Pulling away a little, he swipes a finger across my lips, taking with it the clear gloss I've applied. Wiping it on his shorts, he returns for another kiss.

"Better," he says. "You tasted weird with all that crap on your lips."

After more kisses, he tucks me against his chest, and we watch the sunlight dip below the horizon; purples and pinks streaking the sky.

"I told my sponsors I'd take that wild card," he says out of the blue.

I nod against the material of his shirt. "I knew you would. That's awesome." I try to put a smile in my voice, but it doesn't work, so instead I just bury myself deeper into his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin against my own. He holds me tighter, and for a moment I pretend that we're not facing the end.

"When do you leave?"

His fingers brush through the ends of my hair. "After Christmas some time."

So soon. Sooner than I'd expected.

"Cool."

* * *

**"Bailed up" - **To bail someone up is to get up in their face. For example, Bella would have bailed up Rosie and asked her why she didn't tell her about Edward.**  
**

**"Flash" - **Used here like you American's would use "Flashy", we're just lazy and loose the Y.**  
**

* * *

**Tiff, Thimbles and Ink are the stuffing in my Christmas stocking.**

**Some lovely person nominated 'Follow The Sun' for Fic of The Week over at The Lemonade Stand. If you feel that way inclined, you can vote for it over there. **

**Stick with me, guys. You know I won't hurt you.** **xx Wink**


	21. Twenty-One

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. I do own Follow The Sun. The urge to fiddle with beta'd chapters, and probably make mistakes, is also mine.  
**

* * *

**Twenty-One**

_"Maybe we are satellites, maybe we are meteors. You know we're gunna be alright, tell me what you're waiting for." **'Satellites' - Catcall**_**  
**

* * *

"She's worse than you were on your first night!" laughs Jasper, as the new girl, Kate, drops yet another glass.

"Sorry!" she squeaks, blushing furiously as she bends down to pick up the fourth broken glass in two hours. I watch from the corner of my eye as Paul brushes her hand aside gently, sweeping the glass away. When she first started at the bar, we thought maybe Jasper's luck with the ladies was finally running out. Kate was the first girl I'd seen who hadn't immediately fallen for his flirty smile and inked-up skin. But after watching her around Paul, it's pretty clear to see her attentions are focused elsewhere.

But then, of course, so are mine. Every time I look up my heart sinks a little when I don't find my favourite lop-sided smile looking back at me. It's only been twelve hours since I saw him, but since accepting his position on the tour, Edward has been flat stick training and surfing. It seems like when he's not in the water, he's at the gym fine tuning his fitness, getting himself back into peak condition. Not that I think he needs it; Edward has always been on the skinnier side of lean, and I've always liked it that way. I can't find it in me to complain though; high-intensity cardio and a strict, high-energy, high-protein diet has sent his stamina through the roof both in and out of the water. The tables have turned, and now I'm the one who's worn out.

I spent a stupid amount of time thinking about what to buy him for Christmas, and every time I think about the camera sitting in my work locker, I get a little nervous, and my hands get sweaty.

_It's too much. He won't like it._

_It's so stupid. Maybe I'll take it back._

What if he just got me something small and I got him this really expensive present?

The third time I pour post-mix all over my hand instead of into a glass, I try to stop thinking about it and focus on my work. It's Christmas Eve, and there some familiar faces in the crowd at Mint, but for Rosie and Jasper, who have lived here all their lives, it's a parade of Clearwater expats, and friends home for the Christmas break.

Even after spending most of the day with Mum and Dad, who are staying at Uncle Mick's, I'm struck with a longing to see old friends, for that feeling of familiarity.

By ten-thirty there isn't a spot left at the bar, and even with spirits high, people are getting impatient.

"Excuse me."

"Be with you in a moment."

The girl I'm serving takes ages digging through her bag, finding all the change at the bottom and then counting the little silver and gold coins on the bar, before burying half her arm into the oversized expensive looking handbag again, looking for more. I know the town thrives on them, but fuck me I hate tourists.

"Excuse me!"

My head whips around to the short, dark-haired girl standing at the end of the bar beside me. "I said hang on!"

She huffs loudly. "Rude much?"

I flip her the finger with my free hand and serve the guy next to her instead.

Just when I think it can't get any louder, the noise level in the bar seems to rise twenty-thousand decibels, like someone's suddenly turned the volume up on the bar. People are almost shouting at one another over the babble of voices and the loud music.

I'm mid-pour when suddenly the crowd around the bar parts like the Red Sea, and Edward appears, a tall, broad-shouldered guy at his side, sporting the trademark Masen smirk, and the best set of dimples you've ever seen. I can only assume, from the way people stop and stare, that it's Emmett Masen; ranked fourth best surfer in the world, and also, Edward's older brother. No wonder the place is in the tizzy.

"Jasper, you ugly fuck!" he booms, his voice carrying across the bar like a command.

Jasper looks up from the beer tap, the glass in his hand forgotten as he reaches across the bar, the two of them clapping hands together loudly, familiar friendly smiles on both of their faces.

"Nice hair, nude nut," says Jasper, reaching over to rub his hands over Emmett's shorn head.

Emmett slaps Jasper's hand away, and the two of them launch into boisterous discussion, completely ignoring the waiting customers at Jasper's end of the bar. Edward greets me with a smile, and smile back, waving an empty pot glass at him. He signals for two, and I grab another.

When I put the two beers on the bar a moment later, I hear Emmett not-so-subtly ask Edward, "This her?", and Edward nods gently as Emmett turns to me, handing me a fifty. I can already hear the whispers from the crowded bar, news of Clearwater's very own surf star is spreading like wildfire.

"You must be the famous Bella Swan."

I nod, smiling as I take his cash. "Last time I checked."

Emmett grins, dimples deep, his eyebrows lifting a little. "Oh, she's a smart ass, E. I can see why you like her."

Both Edward and I blush, and Emmett laughs as he slings an arm over Edward's shoulder.

"And you must be the infamous Emmett Masen," I reply, handing him his change.

He winks, flashing me a smile that can only be described as devastating. "In the flesh."

"How'd you get a hot chick like this, brah?" Emmett looks me up and down, and Edward just rolls his eyes.

"I think he's paying her with surf lessons," pipes up Jasper.

"Fuck off," says Edward, throwing a cardboard coaster at Jasper's head.

"Last time I heard you were the one giving surf lessons for sexual favours, Jazza," teases Emmett.

I continue serving customers as the boys trade insults back and forth. I've never heard anyone call Jasper '_Jazza'_ before, and from the way his face twists with displeasure at the sound of it, I'm guessing it's because he hates it.

I make a mental note to call him that from now on.

"Nah, everyone knows your mum gives sexual favours for free," replies Jasper, making vulgar moves with his hips.

The boys all erupt with laughter, even Emmett and Edward.

"Can you stop fucking around and do some work please, Jasper?" yells Rose from the back room.

Standing in front of Emmett, at the beer tap, I watch as the dazzling smile he's wearing falters slightly, and his features soften, his larger than life demeanour suddenly quieting as Rosie, laden with a carton of beer, rounds the back of the bar.

"Hey, Rosie."

Rosie's head snaps up, her blue eyes wide. "Hey, Emmett."

From my vantage point between the two of them, I can practically feel the electricity crackling. Rosie stands frozen by the bar fridges as Emmett watches her, both of them waiting for the other to speak.

After a moment though, someone grabs Emmett from behind, wrestling him into a headlock, breaking the spell.

"Oh my God!" I squeal, flapping my hands around excitedly. Rose tries her best to avoid me, but I've got her cornered. "You and Emmett Masen!"

"Shhhhh!" she hisses. "Just..." she laughs, covering her face with her hands for a moment, "Just shut up, okay?" Even with her mouth covered by her hands, I can tell she's smiling. No wonder she's been all over the shop lately; she knew Emmett was coming home for Christmas.

I shake my head ruefully at her. She'd always said no one in Clearwater had caught her eye – I guess since Emmett doesn't _technically_ live in Clearwater, she was right.

"How long have you known he was coming home?"

She shrugs, smiling. "A while."

Her eyes travel over my shoulder and I turn my head, finding the object of her affection standing with the boys across the bar. Like he knows she's looking, he glances over, his eyes meeting hers. When he smiles at her, Rosie grips my hand tightly, and I can almost feel her heart beating through her fingertips. I know exactly what it's like, that fluttery feeling inside her rib cage when he looks at her, the way her stomach clenches at just the sight of him. I know because I feel it.

Shaking her head a little, Rosie gives my arm one last squeeze and returns to work, and suddenly her protective instincts begin to make sense. She's watching me do the exact thing she's doing with Emmett. She knows what it's like to feel like you're being left behind.

I watch her for the rest of the night, laughing as she spills drinks and screws up orders. Emmett's arrival has put her off-kilter and the regular spit-fire Rosie is nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Jasper whines a low-grumbly groan as we both stand at the till, dead on our feet and tired as fuck.

"Is it over yet? Can I go home?" I moan.

Jasper looks at his watch. "It's two in the bloody morning; these fuckers should be gone already."

I briefly consider turning the water tap onto the crowd like a fireman at a riot. But somehow I don't think Ben would appreciate me soaking his patrons. Plus, we're still in a drought and need all the water we can get.

"Jasper, you're filling that jug with water you know?"

He's not even looking at what he's doing, his eyes are fixed at the other end of the bar.

"Be still my mother fucking heart," he whispers, clenching his shirt over his chest dramatically. "Who is _that_?"

He points past Rosie, all the way to the other side of the pub, where the short, dark-haired girl from earlier is standing.

I snort, rolling my eyes. "That bitch? Pfft. She's all yours."

* * *

The bouncers from the front door eventually herd everyone out, and finally, one hour later, after the fastest clean up in Mint history, Jasper, Rosie and I are all packing up our stuff, ready to leave for the night.

"How'd you go with the ice princess?" I ask Jasper as he pulls his work shirt up and over his head, tugging his head through.

He rubs a hand over his shaggy, overgrown hair as he pulls it back off his face. "She told me to go fuck myself."

Laughing, Rosie and I have no sympathy for him as he stands there looking all forlorn. At least his dick can get a rest and recoup from all the nasty tourist snatch it's been in lately.

"Oh well."

"Oh well?" Jasper all but spits. "But it's Christmas Eve! Who's going to give me my Christmas cheer?"

I make a crude gesture with my hand. "Looks like you'll have to give yourself some Christmas cheer tonight."

Rosie doesn't even bat an eyelid at the mention of her brother and masturbation in the same sentence; she's a million miles away.

"See you at home in the morning, Jasper?" she asks, pulling her hair up onto her head, her hands a little shaky as she circles the elastic around it.

He nods. I guess Jasper knows what's going on with Emmett and Rose; and he doesn't seem the least bit concerned.

She turns to me, and I can see that she doesn't want to be here a minute more than she has to. "You around in the morning?" she asks.

"Yep. I'm meeting Mum and Dad at Uncle Mick's at ten for brekkie."

She kisses me swiftly on the cheek. "Cool. See you then. Night guys."

And she's gone. Out the door and into the night - no doubt to a waiting Emmett.

"So...Rosie and Emmett, huh?" Jasper and I walk around flipping off the lights in the bar. "Is that weird?"

Locking the front doors, Jasper shakes his head, slinging an arm over my shoulder. "Nah, they've been inseparable since Rosie suddenly grew tits."

"Ugh, boys."

"Plus, I beat the piss out of Emmett in year eight for teasing her, so he knows I'll do it again if he hurts her."

"You don't think it's weird that he's never here? Or that Rosie just kind of...waits for him?"

Jasper pulls me into his side tightly, tucking my head under his chin - which makes walking in a straight line difficult. "No weirder that it is with you and Edward."

I nod slowly. "Good point."

Lucky it isn't far home, because the walk is epically slow since we're both absolutely knackered.

"Well, this is me," says Jasper at the door to his bedroom. "Sure you don't want me to stuff your stocking for you?"

A muffled, "Fuck off, Jazza!" booms from my bedroom, and I just shrug.

"Righto then. Your loss." We hug and he wishes me a merry Christmas with a squeeze on the ass. "Night, Edward," he yells, banging on my bedroom door.

The lights are off, but I can see the shape of Edward's body under my sheets, illuminated by the street light outside as it shines through my venetians.

"Santa?" he whispers. "Is that you?"

I toss a sock at him and he chuckles, flopping back into the pillows.

After I splash some water on my face and arms to wash away the beer, I slip into bed in my favourite Christmas pyjamas. Immediately, Edward curls up behind me, tucking his knees up behind mine and pulling me into his chest.

"Merry Christmas," I whisper, turning a little to give him a kiss.

"Merry...hang on...what the fuck are these?" he gasps, tugging at my PJ's.

"They're my Christmas PJ's!" I flatten my hands over the shorts and across the little red singlet. "They've got reindeer on them."

"No. No, no, no." He tugs at the top. "Take them off."

I'm so tired that all I can do is lie there and giggle as he rids me of my offending nightwear. "But I love them."

"It's the middle of summer, Bella. No pyjamas ever. You hear me?" he teases.

Left in just my underwear, Edward pulls me close again, and he's right – the pyjamas were a stupid idea. His skin feels better against mine than anything I could possibly wear.

* * *

**Brah** - Another way of saying 'Bro'.

**Flat-Stick:** Busy. I don't know where it came from. Are flat sticks busy?

**Brekkie** - Breakfast

**Yep - Christmas is the middle of summer. It's awesome.**

* * *

**Thank you to Tiff for giggling at 'Nipple Cripple'. And to Thimbles who I think has had a thing for Salty since forever ago. And to Ink, who doesn't mind that I hurt her feels a little sometimes.  
**

**And thank you to everyone who is reviewing and still putting me on alert. **

**xx Wink**


	22. Twenty-Two

**Hold on tight, you Northern Hemispherians. It's Christmas Aussie style.**

* * *

**Twenty-Two**

* * *

No matter how old I get, I always wake up on Christmas morning excited. I'm woken by the butterflies in the pit of my stomach, and I'm kept awake as their buzz seeps deep into my gut, blossoming into excitement that zips through my veins.

The only time this doesn't happen, however, is at five o'clock in the bloody morning. Five o'clock in the morning is when, no matter how excited I am, I should be asleep. My brain knows that, my body knows that - but apparently Edward doesn't.

The third time he calls my name softly, I "accidentally" kick him in the shin under the sheets.

"Okay, now I know you're awake."

I groan, screwing my nose and mouth up as I scrunch my eyes shut tighter.

"God, you're attractive in the morning," he says. He doesn't see me reach for him under the doona, and yelps as I stab my fingers into his stomach roughly. "Ah, ouch! And violent!"

When I try to pull the sheet up over my head, he tugs it out of my hands and throws it off my body, leaving me exposed.

I open my sleep-weary eyes, watching as Edward looks down for a moment, blatantly checking me out. His hand slides across my bare stomach, coming to rest on my hip, and with a squeeze, he leans closer. "Put your bathers on, too."

Begrudgingly, I follow him out of bed and slip some shorts on over a bikini. Jasper's door is open, his light off. No doubt he's already suited-up and wading into the water somewhere. By the time I've found everything; my towel, my phone, that one thong that always seems to end up under my bed, Edward is already standing beside his idling van, two seconds away from laying on the horn.

"Alright, alright," I grumble, hopping up into the cab beside him.

We're quiet on the trip to Bird Rock, munching on muesli bars, watching the gray sky lighten ever so slightly. The streets are quiet as we rumble through town, the sidewalks empty, the shops closed up and dark. By the time we arrive, there are already people milling around on the beach, and the sun is beginning its ascent over the horizon, the sky lit dusty orange and pale grey-blue, not unlike the eyes of the boy beside me.

I wait beside the van as Edward pulls out his board and slips his suit on. "Looks like everyone's here."

He turns to look over his shoulder briefly, before turning to grab a towel. "Looks like."

Rose's laughter drifts up the quiet beach, and I can just see her, on the sand below, mucking around with Emmett, his wetsuit sticking out like a sore thumb all covered in sponsor logos. When I move to close the back doors, Edward stops me, a hand on my arm.

"Wait a sec. You're not dressed."

I look down at my bathers, the bright material peeking out from beneath an open hoodie. "I can't get any more dressed than this."

Grinning, Edward pokes his head back into the van, rooting around for a second before coming back out with a wetsuit in hand.

"I'm not wearing your wetsuit, Edward. I'll look ridiculous."

"It's not mine."

His smile seems to stretch from ear to ear as he shoves the wetsuit at me.

"So … who's is it?"

"Yours," he says like _I'm_ the silly one. "Merry Christmas."

I look down at the black neoprene suit in his hands. The shoulders are light-grey, the legs knee-length, and the sleeves long. I hold it up beneath my chin, crushing it to my chest. "Oh my God! Edward! I love it!"

Edward looks sheepish, shrugging like it's nothing. "It'll be cold this morning, and I figured you can use it later in the year, too."

Giggling with excitement, I throw my arms around his neck and hug him fiercely, kissing _thank yous_ all over his morning-stubble.

"Can you help me put it on?"

Edward rubs his hands together. "Of course!"

It's a bit of a wriggle; the material is brand new and I'm not used to wearing something so tight, but we get it on, and Edward zips it up, holding my hair out of the way.

"How do I look?" I ask, holding my arms out at my sides.

With two thumbs up, Edward smiles. "Perfect." As we make our way down to the water, he gives my ass a little slap for good measure, making some crude comment about the way it looks in the suit.

We're the last ones in the water, swimming out past the waves to a round of applause and catcalls. Rose sits on her deck, flanked by Emmett and Jacko, her smile the only thing to rival Edward's this morning.

She pulls me up onto her board, laughing as it wobbles wildly.

We hug, dripping wet and floating in the middle of the dark pre-morning water.

There are rounds of handshakes and fist bumps from the boys and a wobbly hug from Uncle Mick after he paddles over. It looks like half of Clearwater is here. Young and old all sit on boards, bobbing around in the cold water; even Ben, who still has that new baby smile plastered on his face. Embry and Carlisle complete the Masen family contingent, and then there's Jasper and the boys, quieter than usual – peaceful. But there's an air of anticipation humming around everyone, like looming excitement. There's talk of lunch feasts and crazy family dinners, and of nights spent building kids play equipment in secret.

As the sun rises over the cliffs, the quiet of the morning subsides and it's like a starter gun has gone off. There's a race for the first wave of the morning, and even though Emmett and Edward are fast in the water, Embry has a head start, and drops in on a massive wave, earning a round of cheers from the crowd behind him. But it's Carlisle that scores the bomb of the day, his long, lean legs still muscled and strong, carrying him over a huge barrel, carving through its centre and out the other end. I even get to join in on my first ever _yewwww!_

Edward and I ride in a few times, and for about two and a half seconds I actually stand up on the board. I get an ear full of water and a good gulp of the stuff, but I'm so happy I couldn't give a shit.

Rosie, Jacko, and even Emmett take it in turns to ride with me while Edward does his own thing, but even then, he paddles right back to me, never leaving my side for more than fifteen minutes. Today I don't care that everyone watches me kiss him. Today I just let myself be_, _let _us_ be_. _

It's barely nine o'clock when we make our way back up the beach, and instead of feeling tired and bedraggled, the water has left me energized.

With more smiles and back slaps and hugs, everyone begins to go their separate ways. Carlisle and the boys have to be back before the twins wake up since Carlisle fell asleep before eating the Tim Tams they left out for Santa. Ben has to be back to help Ange out with the baby, and I have some Christmas food to stuff myself with.

"Call me later?" I ask, reaching up to kiss Edward's salty lips, his skin cold to the touch.

He nods. "After lunch sometime, yeah?"

"Uh-huh. I gotta give you your present."

He gives my wet ponytail a tug, and with a final kiss, leaves me on the beach with Rosie, Jasper, and my Uncle Mick.

"Come on, love," says Mick, tearing my eyes away from Edward's retreating form. "Your Mum's been up since the ass crack cooking. Better get home before she does her lid, and I lose the first bowl of trifle to your dad."

Mum's trifle is something of legend in our family, and only comes out at Christmas. She makes the custard and the sponge from scratch, and there's enough brandy in it to keep Uncle Mick and Dad quiet for a while. There's always an argument over who gets the first bowl; apparently Mick has the inside line this year.

After Rosie peels me out of my new wetsuit, showing me how to wash it, I rinse off in the shower, depositing a metric tonne of salt and sand into the basin. I slip on my new dress, the one I bought especially for the day, smoothing the pretty floral pattern over my hips. Rosie and I exchange presents quickly; she gives me my very own pair of white ballet flats like hers, and a beautiful gauzy kaftan.

Forgoing the car, I walk to Mick and Jessie's, letting my damp hair dry in the warm breeze. Kids on brand news bikes and skateboards whizz down the beach front. On the sand there's remote control cars and kids using their shiny new beach toys and bright beach towels. Eskies and umbrellas are already making their appearance, and the lifeguards are already set up at their station, ready for a busy day on the sand.

It's ten o'clock and already twenty-seven degrees - it's going to be a scorcher of a Christmas day.

When I arrive at Aunt Jessie's, I'm greeted by her and Mum in the kitchen, the two of them standing at the bench peeling cooked prawns.

"Hey, sweetie," says Mum, offering her cheek for a kiss. I pinch a prawn and kiss her loudly.

"Hey, Ma. Jessie." She gets a kiss too.

Mum keeps peeling, looking me up and down, her gaudy Christmas angel earrings swooping around her ears as she shakes her head, smiling.

"What?" Chewing the sweet-fleshed prawn, I pop a piece of bread in the toaster, ravenous from the morning in the water.

"Nothing. I like your dress is all," she says, and I can tell she's lying. I sit on the other side of the bench, watching her and Jessie prepare lunch; cutting ham off the bone, chopping veggies, whipping cream.

"What are you grinning at?" asks Mum, plopping my toast in front of me, a thick slice of ham and some cheese on top.

I didn't even realise I was smiling. "Nothing."

She clucks her tongue at me as I speak around a mouthful of toast.

"She's mooning over her boy," teases Jess, snickering as Mum's mouth falls open.

"What boy?"

Groaning, I shoot Jessie a bitch face. "Just a guy, Mum. And _mooning_, Jessie?"

Aunt Jessie's giggling so hard her boobs are giggling under her red singlet top, her weathered décolletage heaving. "He's not just a boy, Renee. He's _the_ boy around here. Bella's snagged herself a keeper."

"Oh my, God, Jessie!" I slip off my stool, and her laughter follows me out the sliding door into the backyard where Dad and Mick are sitting finishing their breakfast. I lean in to Dad, kissing his whiskery cheek good morning. His face crinkles, the lines appearing at the corners of his eyes as he smiles. His skin smells for the shaving cream he uses mixed with his cheap, chemist-bought aftershave.

We spend the rest of the morning opening presents and preparing lunch, listening to Mum's crappy _Carols in the Domain_ album over and over until I threaten to eject the CD and slash my wrists with it.

Lunch is a feast of fresh seafood and cold meats. Mum makes a big salad, and Dad picks out the avocado and passes it to me, as usual. We pop the crackers and Mum insists that I wear the stupid paper crown, and Uncle Mick laughs way too loud at the crappy joke hidden inside. For dessert there's pavlova and cream, and trifle with chocolate on top, and the lone dish I managed to put together – a fruit salad. Dad keeps commenting on how good the fruit is, saying I must have put something in it to make it taste so good. I throw a cherry at him, but smile anyway.

The afternoon is hot, the air heavy and sticky, making my hair curl at the nape of my neck. The outdoor ceiling fan does nothing but move hot air around, and the flies buzz around my face; the same one coming back a dozen times, irritating the ever-loving fuck out of me. With full stomachs, we retreat inside to the air-conditioned comfort.

As full as I am, I still sit with a bowl of cherries in my lap, watching the kids' Christmas movies on TV, listening to my family chatter in the kitchen behind me.

Mid-afternoon, my phone buzzes on the arm rest beside me, and my heart gets the jitters.

**Ben: Xmas drinks at Mint. Bring the fam. **

I look up at Mum, her cheeks pink from an afternoon in the sun and two bottles of champagne. Dad and Mick are not much better, loud and glass-eyed from all the beer.

Rosie and Edward text me at the same time.

**You going to the pub?**

Knowing I can't escape having to take my tipsy-drunk mother and Aunt, I reply in the affirmative. If it means spending time with my friends over sitting in the heat with nothing to do, I'll take it.

* * *

- **Doona**: Comforter

- **Muesli Bars:** Kind if like granola bars, I guess. Except you can get them with chocolate chips in them.

- **Tim Tams**: Only the best biscuits ever. Chocolate biscuits, with chocolate ganache sandwiched between them, dipped in chocolate. The "Aussie" thing to do is to nibble off two opposite corners and suck hot coffee/tea through them. Or just eat the fuck out of them.

-** "Doing Your Lid":** getting angry. A very Aussie term.

- **28degrees** - 82F. At ten am.

- **Prawns** - Shrimp

* * *

**A little look into Christmas in summer time. What do you think? Wanna join me?**

**Tiff is the best beta. The best. Thimbles is better than the smell of tinsel at Christmas, I swear. And Ink is sweeter than cherries, even the ones you dangle from your ears. **

**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews. Each and every one makes my day, and makes me smile. xxxx Wink**


	23. Twenty-Three

**This is the second half to the previous chapter. I cut it into two. Obviously, since there's now two.**

* * *

**Twenty-Three**

* * *

Apparently walking with drunken women is harder than it sounds. Mum wants to stop every-fucking-where and take pictures, and Jessie seems to want to point out every rubbish bin and picnic table on the south coast. By the time we arrive, everyone is already there, milling around inside, the doors closed up, keeping it private from the outside world.

Ange is the first person I see; baby Lia in her arms. Mum and Jessie coo and swoon over the baby, and I roll my eyes when Mum gives me a sharp nudge, making some comment about being a grandma. I take that as my cue to duck away.

Rosie and Jasper are behind the bar pouring jugs of beer. Jasper has a Santa hat on perched atop his head, the white of the trim making his skin look the colour of golden syrup; his lip studs glinting the gold tone of his skin. Beside him, Rosie giggles girlishly, grinning at Emmett across the counter top, beer spilling out of the tap and over her hand. She is simply radiant, like she's lit from the inside, her entire being glowing through her eyes and her smile. I greet their parents as I pass, and Ben, and then Carlisle who's beside them. They're all full of Christmas cheer, nursing full stomachs and over-worked livers.

Across the bar, nestled into a quiet corner I spy Kate and Paul, the two of them completely oblivious to what's going on around them. Even Embry is there, a Corona in his hand, looking every bit like his older brothers.

Trying to wind my way through the bar, I stop to give each of the boys another Christmas hug, meeting family and relatives along the way.

"Hey, Bella!" Esme appears at my side, a little bronze-haired girl on her hip.

"Hey, Esme. Merry Christmas."

We hug awkwardly, trying not to squash the adorable little girl between us.

"This must be Emily."

"Sure is." She jiggles the girl up and down on her hip, trying to get her to smile rather than nuzzle into her neck. Esme rubs a soothing hand up Emily's back. "She's a little tired."

"Esme!" Carlisle's voice carries over the bar, and we both turn to see Eli, clad in nothing but a little white singlet top and a nappy, finishing the remnants of someone's beer.

"Carlisle," says Esme with a chuckle, "Stop him!" She turns to me, looking apologetic. "I better go before my husband lets our two year old take the car home."

She disappears into the crowd, and finally, I get to make my way to the place I've been dying to be all afternoon.

He's laughing when I find him, and not chuckling – cackling. His eyes are almost scrunched shut, his head thrown back, and his cheeks pink. His hair is a fucking mess; so long it flops over the front of his forehead, the back sticking up in a hundred directions. Beside him, Emmett and Riley are not much better, and Jacko has his head on the table, his shoulders shuddering as he laughs along.

Still laughing, Emmett stands up to offer me the seat beside Edward, conveniently taking the one right beside Rose, who's looking at the four of them like their idiots.

After they settle, Edward rests a hand on my knee beneath the table. It's not high enough to be considered inappropriate – even though having his hands on me _anywhere_ makes me think inappropriate things - but it's just enough to remind me that I'm his. We may have begun this thing thinking we were free agents, just in it for a little fun, but there's no mistaking now that that's no longer the case. Instead of feeling burdened by this, as I have in the past, it's comforting, dizzying and exciting all at once.

The boys play drinking games, flipping coins and cards, playing word games and skolling entire pots of beer. Emmett tries to balance a full glass on his head for a minute, only to drop it and have the entire bar, parents and all, yell "TAXI!" very loudly. At ten-thirty someone fires up the jukebox, and there's Jimmy Barnes and AC/DC, and then my Mum is dancing to INXS and I think I might pass out from embarrassment. Edward and Emmett groan as we watch the parents all break out their dance moves. There's lots of side-step-clapping, and some twisting, and Paul's parents have obviously had lessons because they break out some jive moves, much to Paul's dismay.

"Hey," I whisper in Edward's ear, my hand tightening over his. "Want your present now?"

One of his eyebrows lifts, and he turns a little, his face close to mine. "Here?"

"It's in my locker, you deviant."

We slip quietly into the staff room, closing the door behind us. He waits patiently as I unlock my locker, taking my time just because I can, and he's all excited.

"What is it?" he asks, smoothing his hand over the shiny wrapping paper, shaking the gift lightly.

"Open it and find out."

Grinning at me, he kisses me quickly before tearing open the paper and tossing the ribbon aside.

"Cool," he says, turning the box over in his hand. "I need a camera."

"It's waterproof. So you can take it out into the surf with you."

His mouth pops open. "No way!?"

I can't help but laugh. "Yes way."

"That's the coolest thing ever!"

It's my turn to feel a little bashful. "Yeah well, you can take it with you on tour and send me back pictures of all the big waves." I smile, not wanting to sully the moment with sadness.

He looks down at the camera, nodding slowly. His blue eyes soften when he looks up, and he manages a little smile. "Thank you."

Tucking the camera back inside my locker for safe keeping, he closes the metal door and snaps the lock closed. He kisses me softly at first, pressing me into the lockers, his hand cupping my jaw. I feel like a teenager, making out in secret, with my Mum just next door. Edward is playful and talkative, telling me all about his day between kisses. He kisses my hand; its palm, each finger, my wrist, telling me how pretty my dress is, and how nice it makes my legs look. My fingers dance under the hem of his t-shirt, feeling the warm skin of his hips, my thumbs brushing over the muscle of his lower abdomen.

The door to the staff room opens with a bang, slamming against the wall. Emmett stops in the doorway, his eyes wide.

"Oops. I guess this one's taken."

I spy a blonde head peek out from behind him, blue eyes sparkling.

Emmett tips his baseball cap with a flourish. "Carry on."

As he closes the door, Edward takes a little step back, putting a little distance between us. "Come on. We better get back out there, otherwise the boys will get Embry drunk, and I'll have to hold his hair back while he spews."

Straightening my dress and hair, I look up to find his hand reaching for mine. I don't know why holding hands seems to be the thing that has my heart in my throat and my pulse racing. He wriggles his fingers, smiling at me, and slowly, I reach out and place my hand in his.

"Feel that?" he asks, looking down at our intertwined fingers.

My brow creases. "No."

He kisses me on the cheek. "Exactly. See? Nothing to worry about."

* * *

**TAXI! - I just have to explain this. IDK if everyone does it. Basically, if you do anything whilst - under the influece - i.e. fall over, spill a drink, break a glass, the whole bar/group gets to yell TAXIII (probably sounds more like TAXXSAAAYYYY!) As in; get this man a taxi. Very embarrassing.  
**

* * *

**Oh, Edward. **

**Tiff, Thimbles and Ink all get kisses under the mistletoe for their efforts. **

**Thank you to everyone who shared their Christmas experiences with me! For some of you it's hard to imagine heat, for me, I can't imagine not being able to sit outside and play with all of my outside toys!**

**See you next week! xx**


	24. Twenty-Four

**Disclaimer: I own this story, a bit of a sunburn, a bigger crush on Chet Faker after seeing him live, and a deep, swoony love for the song referenced below. **

**I don't own Twilight though.**

* * *

**Twenty-Four**

"_My heart, my heart, is on fire. And you my love, you are my lighter." – _'My Heart Is On Fire' – Asta

* * *

Christmas comes and goes, but the happy buzz of the holiday season remains. The tourists come in droves; for the day, the week, the month. They crowd the beach, the road, the restaurants, and they pack the bar nightly. As locals, we complain, but the town thrives on sale of overpriced swimsuits and sunscreen, so all we can do is sit back and wait for the end of January, when the kids go back to school and the town returns to normal. In an attempt to beat the crowds over New Years, and at the behest of my Mum, who is apparently a little taken with Edward; I decide to take a road trip home. However, not only am I taking Edward - who's pretty keen to see the farm - but the boys have decided to tag along too. _All of them._

They arrive just as I finish packing my car, and spill out of Edward's van and onto our driveway like a bunch of excited puppies. Mum's going to have her hands full with this lot.

"Morning." Edward ducks in for a swift kiss. "All packed?" He's chewing on an egg and bacon roll from the takeaway shop up the road, the tomato sauce dripping on his fingers. He swipes his tongue between his thumb and forefinger, licking the skin clean.

I nod, taking the roll from him and stealing a bite before handing it back.

"What's with the pillow?" I ask, watching as Rosie tries to shove another one of her pillows into the back of my car.

She shrugs, blowing a stand of hair off her face, puffing a little. "Hey, should I bring my phone charger? Will there be somewhere to plug it in?"

Emmett snorts, tucking her into his side as he shakes his head. He's got a milkshake in one hand and a roll in the other. No wonder Esme was happy to get them out of the house for a while; feeding the two of them must be costing her a fortune.

"It's Forks, Rose," Emmett says. "Not Antarctica."

Rosie swipes the remains of his milkshake and leaves him with a kiss on the cheek.

"Come on, guys!" yells Riles impatiently from the backseat of Edward's van.

"Alright already!" I slip my sunglasses off my head and onto my nose.

"We'll follow you then?" says Edward, and I nod, leaning in for another kiss, which turns into two and then three. He smiles at me, sparkly eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, and I push him away softly before Riley rips the doors off the van in his excitement.

With the boys all behind in Edward's van, Rosie and I get to spend the ride boy-fart and dick-joke free. She plays a mixed CD she made, and we get to sing along into our invisible microphones without someone telling us to shut up.

About an hour and a half from Clearwater, the scenery I know so well begins to return. The horizon flattens, vast cliff tops and rolling hills giving way to long stretches of flat, yellow-green grassed plains and barren farmland. We drive through a few one-pub-towns with names we can't pronounce, and then it's clear sailing all the way up the highway. The smell of the ocean fades into the distance, replaced with dry grass and the smell of hot bitumen. When the grey-brown bark of the towering gum trees appears, their sky-high leaves shadowing the road below, I know we're getting closer.

Six hours and four toilet breaks later, we roll through the township of Forks – population: three and half thousand, plus two million flies, and about ten thousand head of cattle and sheep. I lead the boys down the main street, and I can see them in the rear view, practically leaning out the window to get a good look.

It's really nothing special: supermarket, bank, a couple of pubs and some specialty stores – but it's still home. There's a strange sense of detachment where I thought the nostalgia would be though, and I put it down to my only being away for a little while, hoping it will return.

Fifteen minutes out of the other side of town, we pull up the long driveway of Mum and Dad's house, the gravel sending a plume of dust swirling around us. There are groans and yawns as everyone clambers out of the cars; stretching, cracking backs and stiff necks.

"Man, this place is huge," says Edward, coming to stand beside me. His posture is a rigid and he suddenly looks a little nervous. I guess that even though technically he's met my parents, this would be considered "bringing him home to meet the 'rents". It's odd to watch Edward squirm a little – and a little entertaining.

"This place is the tits!" yells Jacko, looking pretty impressed at the size of the place. Trust Jacko to be so eloquent.

Mum appears on the front veranda, wiping her hands on a tea towel. "Hey, sweetie!" she says with a hug, whispering a welcome home into my hair.

"And, Edward!" she says excitedly, pulling him into a hug too. "Nice to see you again."

"Hey, Mrs. Swan," he replies quietly, not quite sure what to do with his hands.

She slaps his arm. "Charlie's mum was Mrs. Swan. You just call me Renee."

"You remember everyone." I gesture to the bunch of misfits standing by the van, looking decidedly out of place.

"Hey, guys! Hey, Rosie!"

Jacko is the first to speak, stepping forward and pulling Mum into a hug. "Hey, Renee!"

Edward rolls his eyes at his scruffy-looking friend. "How is it Jacko's smoother than I am with your mum?"

* * *

After we lug everything inside, Mum gets everyone set up in the guest rooms, and shows the boys to the fold-out bed in the lounge. Edward stands at the door of my bedroom, while I dump my stuff on the end of the bed and flop face-first into the familiar smelling sheets.

I roll over. "What are you doing?"

He looks around, shifting his bag from one hand to the other as he cranes his neck backwards, out the room, and looks left and right. He looks confused. "Am I sleeping in here with you?"

Shifting aside, I pat the bed in front of me. "I hope so. Cos Jasper snores and Jacko likes to be the little spoon."

"Your dad won't freak out or anything?"

"I'm a little old for him to be freaking out. Plus, Jake used to sleep in my bed and Dad never cared."

"Jake, huh?" he grumbles, taking the length of my bedroom in three long steps and flopping onto the bed beside me. It's rather tight in my king-single, and when Edward lifts my sheets up and starts rubbing them over his chest, and pressing his face into my pillows, I'm almost knocked onto the floor.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Getting my smell all over your sheets so your bed knows who's boss now."

"What?" I laugh, lifting a pillow off his face. "You're a bit wrong, you know that?"

I'm just about to get a kiss, when Mum yells my name. Edward sighs. "Ah well."

"Does Edward want a beer?" she yells, louder this time, like I've gone freaking deaf.

"Do I!?" yells Edward in reply, bouncing off the bed and scampering away.

The boys are already in the kitchen when I get there, sitting around the kitchen table with beers in their hands. Rose even has one too; Mum's even put it in a special stubby holder for her. She gives Edward a big smile and fusses around him, making sure he's not hungry, cold, hot, tired.

"I'll get my own drink, shall I?" I pout, opening the fridge. The shelves are packed with food; salads, deli meat, vegies, eggs, slices – I think Mum's catered for a football team. Which, seeing the way these guys eat, was a good idea.

"Oh my, God!" I pull out a big Tupperware container of homemade sausage rolls. "You never made these when I lived here."

"Well, I made them for you and your friends."

I sneak one out, hoping the table of bloodhounds behind me don't sniff it out, and shove it into my mouth whole.

"There's more in the freezer for you to take home. And some homemade sauce too."

"Fanff ma." I kiss her on the cheek, and she scoffs, brushing the pastry off her cheek and smiling anyway.

Having Edward and the boys in the kitchen is like smooshing together my past and my present. It feels so strange having him there, his long legs stretched out under our kitchen table – but it's nice.

By the time Dad gets home it's early evening, and the boys are half cut and chasing the dogs around the backyard, trying to make them herd up the galahs.

"Evening, all," he says, a beer in hand already. He leans over to kiss me on the forehead, his moustache scratching my skin gently. He gives Edward a special _Dad_ handshake, the kind where he taps Edward's shoulder with his free hand as they clasp hands. I know Edward notices he's the only one who gets the special handshake, because he looks a bit goofy afterwards.

After dinner, Dad breaks out his homebrew, and by the time Mum calls it a night, we're all pissed as ten men. Dad's trying to wrap his head around the fact that the boys willingly surf waves bigger than our house, get pulled over jagged rocks and into swirling rips – and still love it.

"Come on, mate. You gotta be a little crazy to surf a wave that big."

Edward's hair is a mess, and his lips are all pink and his eyes glassy. "Yeah, a little. But it's life."

Dad shakes his head in disbelief. "Well, good luck, son. I think you're bloody mad, the lot of you."

The boys all chuckle. Except Emmett who's fast asleep.

It's taken me a while to understand it; the pull of the ocean, the obsession that is the surf for these guys. But for these boys surfing _is_ life, the rest ... well ... it's just details.

Edward and I are barely under the covers a minute before clothes start flying. I can't stop giggling, and Edward keeps having to tell me to _shhhh_, but he can barely keep a straight face himself.

"... no ... Ed- ... that's my leg ... a bit to the right ..."

"Oops."

"Maybe if I put my leg ... there? Oh yeah, that's better."

"Ahhh! Too hard, babe. Gentle."

"Sorry."

"There?"

"No ... up a bit ... yeah, there."

"This fucking ... shit ... this fucking bed."

It takes some manoeuvring and quite a few tries to get tab A into slot B, but we get there in the end. Not that it matters anyway. Edward is beyond drunk, and I'm about ready to pass out. He comes in about five minutes, laughing the whole time.

"I'm a dud," he slurs, his face resting on my boob.

I run a hand through his hair. "It's fine. Let's sleep now."

"Tomorrow, I swear. I'll make it up to you."

"Yep. Sleep now."

* * *

The next day is New Year's Eve, and there are more than a few bleary eyes in the Swan house. Even Dad looks a little worse for wear.

Unable to stop their body clocks from waking them, the boys are up at first light. Dad looks a little surprised to see them up and about – normally he's the only one up at that time.

"Beer, Charlie?" jokes Riley, his scruffy hair a rats nest on his head.

"That's not funny, son," grumbles Dad., rubbing a hand over his bushy cheek.

Jasper gives up after an hour and goes back to bed, followed pretty closely by Emmett – who I think is less hung-over, and more happy to slide back into the guest bed beside Rosie.

Leaving the boys in Dad's capable hands, I also go back to sleep, happy to have the tiny bed to myself for a while. The house is left at peace with the boys out, and Mum potters around the kitchen quietly, while the rest of us sleep. With my bedroom window open I can smell the dust and the sunlight on the eucalyptus leaves. The cicadas are loud, punctuated only by the warbling of the magpies. It's definitely different from the sounds of the waves.

Edward comes home around lunchtime busting with excitement about _"all the cows and how they got to ride the four-wheeler and Jasper almost tipped it but he didn't and it was hilarious, Bella, you should have been there"_. Yeah, no thanks.

After lunch, looking for some respite from the heat of the afternoon, I take my friends down into the scrub at the back of the property, over the wire fence to the river.

"It's so quiet here," says Rose. The boys all murmur their agreement, and then sully the peace and quiet of the bush with loud yells of 'cooooeeeee'.

Did I mention my friends are idiots?

Approaching the river, my heart leaps into my throat as I hear the familiar voices of the Black boys drifting through the bush. I knew I wouldn't be able to get out of Forks without seeing Jake, I just didn't think it would be so soon. But we're almost at the water's edge, and there's no turning back now. Plus, it's hot as fuck and a dip in the river would be really nice.

Edward and the boys marvel as they watch Jimmy Black swing off the rope swing and out over the river, before letting go and falling into the murky water with a splash.

"Fuck yeah!" says Jasper, looking a little more enthused than he did an hour ago. The guys all murmur their agreement, rubbing their hands together in anticipation.

I introduce James and Jake to the boys, and if it's awkward between Edward and Jake, it doesn't show. Jake looks good; healthy, fit – and he's cut his hair - his once chin-length dark hair is now short and styled His younger brother Jimmy looks like he's grown at least a foot since I saw him. Suddenly, he's this six-foot behemoth with a football player's physique; all wirey-armed and broad-shouldered. He and Jake could be twins if it wasn't for the ten kilos of muscle Jake has on Jimmy from working on the farm every day.

He seems happy too, which in turn makes me happy. Things are a little awkward between us to begin with, but it eases a little as the afternoon wears on. And if I was worried about Jake and Edward not getting along, my fears are assuaged when the two of them get along like a house on fire.

The boys all take turns on the swing, seeing who can be the biggest idiot. Even Rosie gets a go, and Jake is suitably impressed when that crazy bitch pushes off from the highest jump-off point – something even I won't do.

Early evening, Edward and I are drifting in the water, his arms around my waist and his hands in places that make me glad that no one can see beneath the water. Every time I move his hands away, he just slides them right back. Some of the boys are on the bank of the river, looking for yabbies, and some of them are still fucking around in the water.

"What you are guys doing tonight?" asks Jake, floating around on his back.

We shrug, and Emmett suggests _not_ drinking, which is strongly seconded by everyone else.

"There's fireworks at the footy club," suggests Jimmy, and I'm again struck at how much older he looks than his sixteen years.

"Sounds good to me," says Edward, slipping his hands over the back of my bikini bottom once more before swimming away with a little smirk on his face. Sneaky bastard.

* * *

That night is pretty low key. Mum cooks a barbeque and invites the Blacks over. By that time, Edward and Jake are thick as thieves, and I'm not sure whether to be happy about that, or disturbed. I go with disturbingly happy.

Dad and the boys all get along well too; I think it makes Dad feel young again having them around. He keeps making crude jokes and while the boys think it's hilarious, it makes me want to vomit in my mouth every time.

Emmett and Rosie are in their own little world for most of the time, a world full of gentle looks and soft smiles. I'm happy for her, and him. It makes me so incredibly happy to see someone I love as much as Rosie happy. But it worries me to think it could all be ripped away from them in a matter of weeks. Emmett is more than smitten with her, and I wonder how he copes being so far away all the time. What will it be like for Rosie when he leaves again? Will she just go back to the way she was? How do you keep something so special alive when the other person is a world away?

I look over at Edward, joking around with Jake and Riley. I guess I'll find out.

The fireworks over the football oval are crappy at best. Little explosions of yellow and red pop overhead, blues and greens and pinks streaking into the sky. Edward's arm, warm and heavy, sits wrapped across my décolletage, my back pressed into his chest. I can feel his voice vibrating through his ribs as he talks, laughing and being silly with his friends while keeping me close. He kisses me at the stroke of midnight, and when he does, I want nothing more than to take him home. But not Forks, not the place I've always thought of as my home, but Clearwater – our home. I want the smell of the salty air and the sound of the crashing waves. I want the sand between my toes and in my hair and the smell of my skin after a day in the ocean.

Edward's arm tightens across my chest like he can sense my mood, and I place a hand atop his forearm, scratching my nails through the short hairs. The feeling abates somewhat as his fingers brush absently over the skin of my shoulder, and I settle into him, chatting quietly to Rosie beside me. I rest my chin on Edward's arm, smiling to myself as I watch my friends talk back and forth.

As Edward moves slightly, and the smell of his peppermint chewy and warm boy skin drifts past my nose, I wonder if maybe home isn't a place. It's cheesy, and something my mum used to say that I never really understood; but home really is where your heart is.

* * *

***Christmas** - Obviously Xmas is at the same time here, but since it's summer, school is out, so most kids get Dec/Jan off, and the new school year starts at the beginning of Feb. The new year. Which makes more sense than the middle - THERE I SAID IT.

**- Tomato Sauce** - Just Ketchup. But less sweet maybe? More vinegary. Also called "dead horse". Sauce. Dead horse. Yeah, it's terrible, and only old ppl say it.

**- "The tits"** - Awesome. Cos tits are awesome.

**- Stubby Holder** - A little rubber holder that stops your hands getting cold from your can of drink.

**- "Half Cut"** - tipsy

**- Galahs** - Native birds. Bright pink with grey wings. They are loud and obnoxious but very pretty.

**- Yabbies** - Like really tiny lobsters. But they live in rivers. You can eat them too, but I don't. Yuck.

* * *

**Aw, a bit of sappy stuff at the end there.**

**Thanks as always to my awesome team. Tiffany, Thimbles and Luvrofink. And to all you lovely readers for reading. I'm still totally awestruck and smitten-kitten with every review. **

**x Wink**


	25. Twenty-Five

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but I do own a further two pairs of thongs thanks to Santa.**

* * *

**Twenty-Five**

_"Don't know these emotions, don't think I ever have. So helplessly caught in your tide." -_ 'Grey Ocean' Lior_**  
**_

* * *

Edward's alarm doesn't so much wake me, as alert me. Although my eyes were closed, my mind is already half awake, drifting in and out of fitful sleep. I reach over and turn it off carefully, trying not to wake him. Slipping out of bed, I hop around the room looking for something to slip on, willing my bladder to hold on just a minute longer. I find a t-shirt of Edward's thrown over my desk chair. It's stretched and paper-thin, with tiny holes around the neckline, but it's soft and smells like him, so I slip it on.

The sky outside is grey with morning light, the February morning warm already. After a trip to the bathroom, I turn to head back to bed, only to suddenly come face-to-chest with a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt. I have to bite my tongue to stop from screaming.

Fucking Jasper.

"Jesus, Jasper." I hold a hand against my chest, waiting for my heartbeat to slow.

He rubs his eyes, blinking at me. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What am I doing? What are _you_ doing?" I hiss, trying not to wake the house. "Did you stay here last night?"

"Yes. I live here."

"I know that. But it's Sunday morning. Shouldn't you be creeping out of some girl's bedroom, or chewing your arm off or something?"

Jasper reaches down to scratch his balls loudly as he shrugs. It's bizarre how unaffected I am by his grossness these days.

It dawns on me as he shrugs noncommittally. "Did you sleep alone last night?"

"Yeah, well, bloody..." He sighs, scrubbing the same hand that scratched his balls through his hair. "Ice Princess turned me down again!"

"Oh." Apparently her name is Alice, but since she turns Jasper down Every. Single. Night. _and_ is kind of a bitch, she's earned herself a nickname.

"I gave her my best material, too. It's like she's...not interested, or something."

Patting him on the arm, I move around him. "Well, it's for the best. She's a mole anyway."

"Yeah, but she's a cute mole."

Wandering back into the bedroom, I crack open the door quietly, only to find Edward already awake and sitting on the side of my bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

His gaze flickers up and down the length of my body. "Hey."

"Hey." I stand in the doorway for a moment. "You going to shower before you go?"

He nods, picking up his folded clothes from atop his carry-on bag. Just the sight of it makes my stomach clench.

It's only two weeks – nothing really. That's what I tell myself as I get back in to my empty bed, listening to the shower run in the bathroom down the hallway.

The first leg of the tour starts at Snapper Rocks, a surf beach on the Gold Coast. It's barely two hours by plane - nothing.

Edward and Emmett have planned to spend the week and a half beforehand training and preparing, meeting with sponsor reps and doing the whole press thing for the tour. Edward isn't a fan of all the press stuff, but apparently Emmett is a natural, so he tends to just keep quiet and let him do the talking when he can. Riles and Jacko have taken some time off too, and are flying up to the Gold Coast with them, making it more of a "boys trip" than anything else. I don't even want to think about what those two will get up to with two weeks free reign.

I desperately wanted to go along, but work at the pub has been so crazy already, and with Paul gone and the casual staff all back at school, it's down to just Jasper, Rosie and I. But, like I keep telling myself, it's only two weeks.

I try to go back to sleep, but the moment Edward comes back into my room, I'm wide awake.

"Emmett's out the front," he says quietly, slipping his cap on.

"M'kay."

I can hear Rosie and Emmett talking quietly in the living room outside my door. She and Emmett spent the night together too, and I can only imagine she's feeling the same way I am right about now. There's a lump in my throat the size of a golf ball, and to be honest just breathing around it is hard. I try to swallow the emotion, slipping a wobbly smile on my face for Edward.

Sitting on the bed beside me, he leans forward for a kiss, just the tail end of hundreds we've shared over the course of the night.

"Miss me?" he asks quietly, blue eyes intense.

"Of course."

Another kiss. "I'll call you when we land."

He tucks my sleep messed hair up and away from my face.

There's a quiet knock on the door. "We gotta go, man," says Emmett.

I reach up for another kiss and Edward smiles against my lips as I wrap my hands around his neck, holding him close. There's a brief awkward pause, that moment when couples would say "I love you" or something to that effect. We just kiss some more until he really has to go.

Adjusting his hat, he lifts his bag onto his shoulder and opens the bedroom door, only to come rushing back for another kiss.

"Go!" I giggle, pushing him away.

_Kiss._

"Bye."

_Kiss._

"Bye."

Settling back into my pillows, I listen for the rumble of the van and the slide of its back door as Edward puts his things in. I'm laughing already as the front door bangs open and the telltale flap-flap-flap of Edward's thongs against the tiles get louder. He bursts in the door and comes back for one last kiss.

"Seriously."

_Kiss._

"I have to go."

_Kiss. Kiss._

It takes the sound of his van backing out of the driveway to cement that fact that he's not going to come running back. Instead, it's Rosie who slips in, sliding under the sheets beside me, curling up.

As morning breaks and the sun rises, we hold hands under the sheets, our sweaty palms squashed together, two little aching hearts beating the same rhythm.

* * *

Rosie and I watch every single sports report that week, keeping our eyes peeled for our boys. There are a few spots here and there; the arrival of the big names into the Gold Coast stirs some interest, but unless it's tennis or cricket, it doesn't get much air time. Edward calls me every day, sometimes twice a day. The other boys are being complete hoodlums, drinking and partying while he and Emmett spend their days training and in meetings with the company sponsors.

He's tired, and it's all a bit of a mind-fuck apparently, but he's excited, I can tell by the way he talks to me like I'm one of the boys.

"Shoulda seen these eight-footers wrapping up the reef, babe! Cruised in on my six-two, pulled a couple cheeky nugs…"

At about that point I have to remind him that I'm not Emmett, and that I don't have a clue what he's talking about.

He laughs. "Sorry."

He knows he's not in with much of a chance of coming in the top ten in the competition, but if he can place in the top twenty, he'll be chuffed. On the other hand, Emmett doesn't care where he places in this heat, he just wants to give Burrows, and American surfer, a run for his money.

The day of the Pro, the TV's at work play the coverage non-stop, and Rosie screams like a crazy woman the first time Emmett comes on the screen. He's suited-up and wading through the press and the crowds that swarm the beach, his board under his arm, that dazzling, dimple-punctuated smile blazing for the world to see.

He surfs well apparently, but it's early, and the best is yet to come.

When it's Edward's turn, I can't watch, and my tongue is swollen in my mouth I'm so nervous. That is until Rosie gasps.

"Oh shit!" she says with a chuckle.

I look up at the TV and my mouth falls open.

I'm going to kill him.

He's shaved his head.

All that beautiful bronze hair is gone.

"What the fuck did he do?"

Rosie smothers a laugh behind her hand as he smiles shyly at the camera, rubbing a hand across his head in what's obviously a leftover habit from when he actually _had_ hair. I want to be mad, it's sitting right there under the surface - but I can't. The camera follows him down the beach, and I find that funnily enough, the lack of hair on his head just accentuates the colour of his eyes, and somehow, he still looks really good. Or maybe I'm just biased. Anyway, he's got the right shaped head for it, I guess, so it doesn't look too strange. But nevertheless, Emmett, who no doubt had something to do with it, will have some explaining to do when he comes home.

The day goes well. Emmett places third behind another Aussie, the Wilson kid everyone talks about, and Jared Cameron – the current world number one. Edward does better than expected and comes in at thirteenth, a result he's more than happy with. I celebrate with a beer to calm the nerves that have been on edge all day. I don't know how I'm going to cope watching him compete at Bells. My thumbnail is almost a bloody stump, and I think I might have broken Jasper's fingers I was squeezing his hand so tight at one point.

My mobile rings an hour or so after his heat, and I fumble the phone so much I drop it twice trying to answer. He's tired, physically and emotionally – I know how crazy it was for me to watch, half a continent away, I can't imagine what it's like to be in the thick of it. But he's just _so_ happy. I can hear the smile in his voice; imagine the grin that he can't wipe off his face. I don't even have it in my heart to berate him about the hair issue. He assures me it's for aerodynamics or something, but I think he just got sick of me pestering him to wash it all the time. Apparently, there's no need to wash your hair if you're in the water. I beg to differ.

We end the call on a high note. He'll be home the day after next, coincidentally my next day off from work. He's got two weeks until the comp at Bells Beach - the big one. For him and Emmett, and most of the other Aussie surfers, Bells Beach is the one to win. Everyone wants to win on their home turf, and Bells has some of the biggest, roughest waves on the south shores. I know he's trying to downplay it, but Edward is nervous. The result at Snapper Rocks was better than predicted, which means that now he's expected to perform well. I support him as much as I can; assuring him that everyone will be there for him, no matter the outcome.

"Are you going to be there? At Bells?"

"Course. I wouldn't miss it."

He lets out a long, deep breath. "Good. Just knowing you're there is ... it's good."

After Bells, we'll have just three weeks together before he and Emmett take off on the first leg of a long stint away. They'll compete in Indonesia, Tahiti, Rio, and then Fiji before there's enough of a break to come home. All up: ten weeks – almost three whole months.

But we're determined not to let the looming future ruin the time we have left. It might only be two weeks, but I plan to make Edward's remaining days in Clearwater happy and carefree.

* * *

**Hope you all had a lovely Christmas and a safe New Year. Thank you as always to my lovely team: Tiff, Thimbles and Ink. And thank you to everyone who's still reading. **

**xx Wink**


	26. Twenty-Six

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. But I do own the words "fucking kiss me".  
**

* * *

**Twenty-Six**

* * *

"You came with Chinese food!"

I clap my hands as Edward deposits three plastic bags on the coffee table, immediately ripping into one searching for the prawn crackers.

"Lemon chicken, Singapore noodles, dim sims- ah! Spring rolls!" I pull one out of the bag and pop it into my mouth. "Veggies, fried rice - what is this?" I lift the plastic container up, looking through its bottom. "Beef and … something? Edward, how much food did you get?"

Taking his seat on the floor beside me, Edward grabs a plate, shrugging. "I'm hungry."

There is enough Chinese food on my coffee table to feed at least six people. I tip a little rice and some veggies on my plate, watching as Edward heaps spoon after spoon of food onto his, munching on crackers the whole time.

Since the competition started, and Edward's training and surfing has increased, so has his appetite. He's like a garbage disposal unit, shovelling food down his throat like his legs are hollow. Just when I think he's full, that _maybe_ he's eaten enough, he goes back for a third and fourth helping. If I didn't miss him so much when he was gone, I'd think it was gross.

Finally, after almost all of the food is demolished, he leans back against the sofa, rubbing his flat stomach. That's the other annoying thing about the amount he eats; no matter what it is he eats, he doesn't put on a single kilo. Not one. In fact, he looks better for it. Meanwhile, I'd look like a whale in my bikini.

It's been almost a week since he got back from Queensland, and I'm still not quite used to his shaved head. It's a Thursday night, just a day out from the Bells Beach comp, and we're sitting in my lounge room, waiting for Rosie and Emmett to get home, watching 'Still Filthy' for the twenty-six-thousandth time. Edward is transfixed, as usual, and I can't help but peek at him from the corner of my eye. Without the softness of his hair, his profile has become more defined; his slightly crooked nose, the cut of his jaw, the angle of his cheekbones – they all perfectly accentuate a handsome face no longer hidden under his hair.

"What are you looking at?"

"Your pretty face."

He throws me a sidelong glance. "What?"

Pushing the coffee table back a little, I wriggle myself between it and Edward, my legs on either side of his hips. His hands immediately find my thighs, and he looks up at me appreciatively.

"What are you up to?"

I press forward and kiss him, sliding the tips of my fingers under the hem of his t-shirt. It may have been over a week since he returned, but I still can't get enough of him.

"You get something special for bringing me food."

He laughs, his gaze flickering between my lips and my eyes. "Really? Is it garlic breath?"

My fingers close around the soft skin at his sides and he yelps.

"Oh dear," I reply with a mocking pout. "No kisses for you." I dip my head, my lips brushing against his jaw as my fingers creep up his sides, feeling the flex of his muscle beneath them.

He laughs quietly in my ear. "You wouldn't."

"Watch me," I whisper against the shell of his ear, my lips curving into a smile as his fingers tighten against the skin of my outer thighs.

He's already hard when I reach down between us and into his shorts, and his hips flex as I touch him gently, barely grazing the smooth, hot skin he so desperately wants me to touch. Leaning back a little, I watch his lips stretch into a sly grin as he watches me, his eyes dancing between my face and my fingers as they make short work of button-fly on his shorts.

When he licks his bottom lip, the soft, pink skin disappearing between his teeth, I almost cave right there and kiss him.

Electricity crackles between our lips as they dance dangerously close together, and as much as I'd love to lean forward half an inch and taste them, I hold back; teasing him with a kiss on his chin instead, my teeth grazing his stubble-rough skin.

His head rolls back against the sofa as I squeeze him, and he groans, slow and quiet, looking down at me through his lashes, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. His mouth falls open a little as I make another pass with my thumb, and his head snaps up, his lips seeking mine.

Smirking, I move away, and kiss the warm skin of his throat, working him into a panting, grunting frenzy beneath me. When I kiss the spot beside his mouth, he chuckles quietly, thinking I've given in. But I turn away just in time, and my cheek catches his searching kiss instead.

Expletives slip from his mouth, his frustration evident in the way he grunts softly as I work my hand faster. He's holding me so tight there's barely any room between us. But I manage anyway, and before long he's trying to find something to do with his hands; alternating between gripping my hips and the couch cushion behind his head. When I start rocking forward a little; my hand working him faster, his grip on my thighs tightens, and his mouth falls open just a little.

I can see the tip of his tongue behind his lips, and I want so much to kiss him as my name tumbles from his pretty mouth.

With his fingers under the hair at the nape of my neck, he draws me close. He's panting, almost writhing beneath me. "Fucking kiss me."

So I do.

He comes, grunting softly against my mouth and coating my hand and his stomach as we kiss; teeth and lips and tongue smashed together.

Breathing hard, Edward flops back against the couch. "Fucking hell. I'm bringing you food more often."

Kissing him quickly on the cheek, I stand up and duck into the bathroom, washing my hands. When I get back, Edward has already cleaned up and there's a container of rice open in front of him. With a mouthful of food, and sparkly-sated eyes, he leans to the side and kisses me.

He's cute and he knows it.

With just over forty-eight hours until the Rip Curl Pro, Edward has been at the beach with Emmett all day, every day. The school holidays are over and tourists have gone back to regular life, but now the competition brings a new influx of people into town. Gone are the sun-seeking families and grubby-fingered children; the town is now swamped with pro surfing officials, sponsorship teams, trainers and surfers from every corner of the world. Of course, with the international surfing stars come their beach bunny fans. I've pretended not to see the groups of girls watching Emmett and Edward from the sand each morning, but pretending they're not here doesn't make the urge to bitch-slap them go away.

Edward spent some time during the week packing up his stuff at his mum and dad's, putting some things into storage, and leaving other more important things – like his extra boards - with Jasper. It's in those moments that I remember he's leaving for a little while.

We've had brief conversations about our future, but the second it gets heavy, we both wuss-out and change the subject. It's become a vicious cycle that both of us are aware of, but for some reason are too chicken-shit to do anything about. And as relaxed as I usually am with this stuff, I'm finding that the closer we get to him leaving, the more it's beginning to eat away at me. The not knowing. It's not just the fact that he's leaving now; it's the fact that my unspoken feelings for him have become this heavy weight resting deep inside my chest. The more time I spend with him, the more this thing inside me claws at my insides, screaming to get out. It rattles my ribs and beats at my heart, begging me just to _tell him_, to say something. And with just days to go, and very little time alone in between, it's literally now or never.

Picking at a cold spring roll, I swallow my pride and apprehension, and decide to broach the subject before Emmett and Rosie come home. The DVD flashes a few shots of some beautiful, buff surfer girl, complete with a great ass and golden-brown skin.

"She's pretty."

He shrugs. "She's alright."

"Nice legs."

When he doesn't reply, I press on. "I guess it'd be nice to have a girl who surfed more, like Rosie?"

Tearing his eyes away from the screen briefly, he looks at me for a moment. "You surf."

I nibble at a piece of fried spring roll wrapper. "Not well though."

Turning back to the movie, Edward shrugs. "You'll be right. Almost there."

"Yeah, but that chick's hot and she surfs, that's kind of two for two."

Edward just shakes his head, snorting.

"Would you kiss her?"

His head whips around and his eyes widen. "What? Who? Rosie?"

I sigh, frustrated. "No, the surfer chick."

He's looking at me like I've lost my fucking mind. "Why would I want to kiss her?"

Combing my hands through the ends of my hair, I shrug, looking down as my fingers get caught in a knot. "I dunno. What if you're in Brazil or something, and she wanted to kiss you." I'm such an idiot, and I know it. "Would you?"

Edward turns his body to face mine. I think he's just figured out what I'm trying to do. "Are you serious right now?" I shrug slowly, chewing on the inside of my cheek. "Were you here ten minutes ago? I don't want to kiss anyone else."

We're silent for a heartbeat, and I shuffle forward on the carpet a little. "So, I know I said I didn't want to be your girlfriend or whatever. But-" I take a breath, holding it in, and then let my words out in one long exhale. "I think I changed my mind."

Edward doesn't even flinch. "You want to be my girlfriend?" he asks quietly, ducking his head to meet my eyes. He's smirking a little, and I want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

I nod, feeling silly.

"You know you're practically my girlfriend already though, right?"

Sighing, I nod again. "I know. I just wanted you to know that I'm not totally averse to being labelled anymore. Actually, I kind of want the label."

"Well, what would you prefer? Ball and chain? The missus?"

"I like missus, maybe even old lady. Girlfriend would also be okay, or just Bella."

He slips an arm over my shoulder, resting it on the sofa cushions as he goes back to watching TV. He's trying to play it cool, but I can see the corners of his mouth twitching – he's just itching to break out that gut-busting smile of his.

"So I can tell everyone you're my girlfriend now?"

Hearing him say it like that makes my stomach flutter. My answer is quiet, but sure. "Yeah."

"And you won't get freaked out and kick me out of bed?"

I slap him on the arm, feeling instantly guilty. "That was one time!"

"I'm kidding!"

We sit in silence for a little while, still waiting for Em and Rosie to turn up.

Well, the conversation with Edward didn't go exactly as I'd planned, but it's a start.

As late evening breaks, I find myself sleepy, my head resting on Edward's shoulder.

"I can feel you watching me."

"I'm _so_ not watching you sleep."

I crack an eye open, catching him looking down at me. He turns his head quickly, but he knows he's been caught.

"You're such a creep."

"You're the girlfriend of a creep, what does that make you?"

"Are you going to keep saying that now?"

Lifting my head, I stretch my arms up, groaning into a long yawn. Edward takes the opportunity to tuck himself under my arms as they come down, sliding in close and wrapping his arms around me.

"I can't help it if you're cute when you sleep. Girlfriend."

"Yeah, okay." I'm totally bluffing, he can keep saying that as much as he likes.

He leans forward until I'm flat on my back, my hips pressed into the carpet. "It's going to be weird waking up alone when I go."

"And going to bed alone." I smirk. "Well…at least you'll have old righty there."

"It's not the same though. Nothing feels like you do."

Lifting my hips to press against his, I feel him harden against my thigh.

"Your brother will be home soon." My tone holds a warning, but my body says otherwise, my skin flushing with heat as his fingers slip under the denim of my shorts, pressing against my underwear covered heat.

"He'll be right."

At the touch of his hand to the tender flesh between my legs, I wince, squeezing my legs together.

"Oh! I'm a little sore."

He looks disappointed. "Aw. Really?"

I nod. "I think last night finally wore me out." I'm surprised it hasn't happened sooner. "I need a little time to recover."

"I distinctly remember round two being your idea," he argues.

"It was."

Resting his arms on either side of my head, Edward leans down to kiss me softly. I'd thought that kissing Edward would be something I would get used to. That the dizzy feeling I get would subside with time; but it hasn't. His kisses still make my pulse race and my palms sweat, and if that feeling never stops, I'll be the happiest girl alive. As the taste of him floods my senses, I can't help but draw my leg up against his hip, trying to get as close to him as possible. His lips are soft against mine, his tongue brushing mine with gentle sincerity.

I didn't think it was possible to actually swoon until I met Edward. But as his kisses migrate south, over the bones of my décolletage, and over my shirt to the sliver of skin above my shorts, I think I actually swoon. My head spins as heat rushes my body, and a contented, blissed-out, turned-on sigh escapes my lungs.

He takes his time kissing the skin of my stomach, my muscles clenching reflexively as he hits a few ticklish spots.

"No—" I giggle loudly as his head disappears under my shirt, his face between my boobs. "I don't think Emmett needs to see—fuck, Edward—us getting naked and stuff." He's pulled my bikini top down, his tongue and lips working one nipple while he palms the other. Every flick and roll of his tongue against me sends bolts of warmth through my body.

"Nah, we've got time," he says as his head pops out, my t-shirt up around my midsection as he continues his descent. "Plenty of time," he murmurs as his fingers slide under the waistband of my shorts, slipping the button through the hole with ease.

Edward grins down at me as he moves the zipper down slowly. "Well, well, well. Hello old friends." He presses his face between my hip bones, rubbing his cheek against my strawberry printed undies.

"I think they missed you," I squeak as his lips dust a line of kisses across the thin elastic at the top.

"Do you know how much restraint it took that morning not to take a peek under that sheet?" He looks up at me from between my legs, and I can't help but reach out and brush my fingers over the short hairs on his head as my mind trips back to that morning, and the incredible hangover I'd nursed.

My heart skips a beat as I think back to that morning; to waking up with him beside me, that devastating grin on his face. "Man, you had me so spun that morning."

"You've had me spun since that day on the beach," he murmurs, almost purring as I scratch my nails over his scalp.

"Really?"

He hums in the affirmative, eyes slipping closed as he rests his cheek on my hip. His next words are quiet, his voice low and thick with emotion.

"I'm going to miss you so fucking much."

I look down. His eyes are still closed, but there's a slight crease between his brows, his lips puckered a little.

"I'm going to miss you too."

_I love you I love you I LOVE you._

He takes a long, deep breath, opening his eyes and looking up at me. "We can do it though, right?"

Shifting my knees a little, I nudge him until he scoots up, his head on my chest, his body stretched out on the floor beside me. "Of course we can."

His arm tightens across my stomach as he nuzzles his face against the material of my t-shirt, and I clutch him to me almost desperately in an attempt to assuage not only his worries, but mine.

On the floor, curled into each other, is how Rosie and Emmett find us half an hour later.

"Ugh," groans Emmett. "Get a room."

We sit up, blinking away sleepy eyes. Rosie and Emmett are practically mirror images of Edward and me. When they're not on the beach, they're at Esme and Carlisle's, having taken Edward's room out the back since he's always here with me.

Edward perks up a little at his brother's appearance. "Hey, guys, have you met my girlfriend, Bella? This is Bella – my girlfriend." He throws an arm over my shoulder, tucking me into his side.

Emmett looks confused. "Yeahhh-what? Are you high?"

Smug, Edward shakes his head, looking down at our interlaced hands.

Rosie doesn't miss a beat though. She nudges Edward a little as she passes. "Nice work, Ed."

"Movie starts at six-thirty," she says as she brushes past me, squeezing my hand gently. Squeezing back, I return her smile.

"So can I get a tattoo with your name?" Edward asks, tapping his bicep.

* * *

**- 'Still Filthy'** - a surfing video, apparently one of the best. If you want something a little prettier to look at, try YouTubing 'Way of the Ocean'.

**- 'He'll be right.**' - just to clarify, this is not a grammatical error. Again, we're lazy.

* * *

**My girls Tiff, Thimbles and Ink are like sunshine. And big ass thank you to everyone still reading and reviewing. I'm getting to replies. I am. Sort of. Okay, I suck. But I freakin love you guise, okay?**

**xx Wink**


	27. Twenty-Seven

**Disclaimer: A long-ish one this one. And only a little bit more teeth rotting stuff. Promise. That's not really a disclaimer is it?  
**

* * *

**Twenty-Seven**

* * *

The morning of the competition, Edward is up and out of bed before the sun even thinks about appearing over the horizon. After lying there for over an hour after he leaves, unable to get back to sleep, I decide to get up and head down to the beach for a swim.

With summer behind us, the days are still warm, but the mornings are beginning to cool again, the nights bringing relief from the heat. The morning air is brisk and the water is fresh, even in my wetsuit. I don't go far, especially since I'm on my own, just far enough to wake me up and get my head clear.

At home, I peel my suit off and rinse it out. The swim has calmed my nerves somewhat, but now all I want to do is get down to Bells and see Edward. Lost in thought, I move into the kitchen, ready to have some breakfast, only to stop short, surprised to see a set of skinny legs at the bottom of one of Jasper's crappy Bintang singlets.

"Oh, hey," says Alice, her hands wrapped around a glass of water.

I look around, searching for Jasper. "Heeeyyy."

She looks completely different from the other times I've seen her. Her hair is wild; short, dark locks sticking out at random angles, and her normally perfect makeup is gone, her skin fresh and clean.

"So…" I'm a little lost for words. "You're in my kitchen."

She nods, taking a sip of water. "Yeah."

"Did you stay the night?"

Alice grins sheepishly. "Yyyyeah. Listen," she rubs a hand through her short hair. "I have to apologise for being such a bitch." I shift my weight to one hip, listening intently. "I'm not very good…socially. I get awkward, and sometimes that comes out being bitchy. Sorry."

Clearly she's nervous; her apples of her cheeks are pink, and she keeps brushing her hair behind her ear even though it's already there. I'm not quite sure what to say – half-naked apologies aren't something I'm used to.

"It's cool." Shitty answer, but it's all I can come up with at eight o'clock in the morning.

Jasper suddenly appears from behind me, snapping the string on my bathers. "You going to the Pro in your bikini, Bella?"

"What?"

I'm struck dumb as he bends to give Alice a kiss, which she reciprocates with a smile.

"You guys have met, yeah?" says Jasper, gesturing between the two of us.

Alice and I nod, but she's not even looking at me anymore since Jasper has his hands under the back of the t-shirt she's wearing.

Leaving them to their kitchen pash session, I back away slowly. "I'm going to jump in the shower to – uh – shower…in there."

I don't think Jasper even heard me.

* * *

"Well, apparently she stayed the night!"

Rosie swivels around in her seat beside me, a smoothie in her hand. "Alice? As in, the Ice Princess? With my brother?"

I nod, slurping my own breakkie smoothie; complete with bananas, muesli and honey – only the best thing in ever.

"I can't believe he didn't tell me!" Rosie yells, wrenching her phone out of her bag. Her thumbs fly over the screen, a long and no doubt ranty SMS on its way to a certain tattooed brother of hers.

The drive to Bells Beach is relatively short, only thirty minutes or so. The day is clear and sunny, the conditions for surfing beyond perfect. I know this because Rosie and the boys spent half an hour talking wind directions and ground swells before we left. Meanwhile, I tried to decide whether to take a hat or not.

As we near the beach, the nerves begin anew, and when I can't find a park anywhere, it takes all I have not to just leave the car in the middle of the road and make a break for the beach.

"You shitting yourself?" I ask Rosie, who looks calm.

"Fucking oath," she replies, taking a deep breath.

The first thing I can hear as we approach is the loudspeaker, the echo of the announcer's voice bouncing off the water and the cliffs below. As we round a corner, four grandstands appear, huge structures looming high over the beach; filled with camera crews, sponsors, announcers and judges. Surf brand logos are splashed everywhere, from the flags flying high on the grandstands, to the tents on the sand below.

Flashing our very special wrist bands, Rosie and I make our way down the sandy steps. The wind off the ocean is fierce, whipping around my face, stinging my eyes. I'm glad I wore my hair up and decided against the hat.

"Do you think the view would be better up there?" I ask, pointing to the grandstands.

"Nah. I'd much rather be down here than up there. I feel closer to Emmett down here for some reason." It's rare that Rosie makes comments that so bluntly speaks of her feelings for Emmett, and they still take me by surprise.

Riley and Jacko are already on the beach, flanked by Embry and a couple of other boys I've seen around.

"Good timing," says Riles. "They're about to start."

I settle in beside Riley and Embry, who shifts over to make room for me. He still blushes a bit, even though it's been ages since I kissed him. Apparently he is the spitting image of Edward at that age. Completely and utterly devoted to the sea and his board, I don't think Embry even understands the effect he has on girls his age. His long legs are bent up in front of him, his arms resting on his knees. As he talks to me about how the competition works, I find myself drawn to the silvery scar running the length of his shin, his tibia bone an odd shape where the cancerous tissue was removed. Below the scar lie four string-woven anklets, each a different colour, each representing a member of his family. The bright red one is Edward, I know because he was the one who gave it to him. The string is worn and stretched, hanging loosely around the protruding bone of his knobbly ankle. Even at the tender age of just eighteen, Embry could be out there with his brothers, doing what he loves for a living. But it's not the fame of a world title Embry wants, it's the rush of big wave surfing. He wants to barrel in on the kind of waves that his brothers would be afraid of; Mavericks in California, Cyclops in Western Australia, Waimea Bay in Hawaii – these are the kind of waves that shred you up and spit you out, drag you across the rocks like a fucking cheese grater until you're nothing but a bloody mess on the other side. You have to be ten kinds of crazy to want to launch yourself onto a wave like that, and something tells me Embry is the crazier of the three older Masen boys.

Heat one starts with little introduction, and we watch with mild interest as some of the other surfers take the water. Mostly, I spend my time scanning the crowds for Edward and Emmett, waiting for them to arrive. After six or so runs, Edward's name is called, and he appears from the competitor's tent, his board under his arm, his broad shoulders clothed in his black suit. They call his name a final time, and he raises his hand in the air for a brief wave, his eyes meeting mine for a heartbeat before he takes the water. As the cheering dies down, and the clapping subsides, I grab Rosie's hand, squeezing tightly.

"Calm down. Otherwise, you're going to bust a valve before the day is out," warns Rosie with a chuckle. "He's got this, okay?"

She's right. Edward's run is easy; the waves are perfect, and he takes them with ease, advancing to the next round without breaking a sweat. Dripping wet and smiling, he exits the water minutes later, wiping the salt water from his nose, and throwing a smile and a wave my way before disappearing into the swarm of trainers and officials.

Emmett competes not long after, his run much the same; easy, smooth, perfect. It's only when Jared Cameron takes the water that a hush falls on the crowd. I might be a noob when it comes to actually surfing, but even I know who Jared Cameron is. Often ranked world number one, and the defending champion of the Rip Curl Pro at Bells Beach, the American surfer is more celebrity than sportsman. Supermodels and actresses, his list of romantic counterparts garners him just as much attention as his surfing does. Plus, he's pretty fucking good looking too.

The day wears on slowly, heat after heat, round after round, and I can see how sitting through these events day in, day out, could be a drag. The boys find us between heats though, and I get myself a salty-lipped kiss hello.

"You okay down here?" he asks, sitting beside me in the sand, his wettie on his hips.

"Yeah, I'm good. You doing okay?"

Lifting his knees, he rests his elbow atop them. "Yeah. Rather be down here though with you guys though."

Smugly, I wonder if Jasper has a hat, and whether it tastes any good.

After a little while, Marcus, Edward's trainer, comes to whisk him away, and it takes everything I have not to follow him into the tent.

"See you soon." He gives me one last kiss, squeezing my hip briefly.

_Love you._ It sits on the end of my tongue, pressing at the back of my teeth, vanishing into thin air as he walks away.

Jasper arrives during the second round, right before Emmett takes the water again. He brings fish and chips, a few bottles of Coke, and Alice. It turns out, after we talk to her, that she's actually not that bad. Studying law at Melbourne Uni, she's quiet, smart, articulate, and for some strange reason, completely smitten with Jasper.

Edward and Emmett are in and out of the water a few more times, knocking out contestants as they advance. It isn't until round four that things begin to get interesting. From almost forty surfers, only twelve remain, two of whom are our boys. If either of them make it through round four, even if they're knocked out, they'll receive points towards their rankings, and some pretty substantial prize money. Carlisle and Esme join us on the sand, sans kids, and suddenly I can see Esme as this gnarly surfer babe, rather than a hectic mum of five.

"How can you stand this?" I ask, burying my head in my knees as Edward takes the water again.

"You'll get used to it," she assures me, wrapping an arm over my shoulder and pulling me tightly against her side.

We watch on as Edward surfs well, and Esme is beside me the whole time, whispering under her breath. _"Stick to the inside. Nice. Watch your take off – watch it, Edward!"_

I wonder if maybe Carlisle wasn't the one to teach Edward to surf.

The scores are announced, and we all exhale a breath of relief as Edward continues on. It's no surprise that Emmett advances, and soon there are only eight of them left, and we're all settling in for round five – the quarterfinals. Only four surfers will remain after the quarters, and the buzz is all about Emmett and Jared, about who will clinch the title at Bells.

After a blistering run from Jared that blows his opponent out of the water, its back to Edward, only this time, he's competing against Emmett. Esme takes a deep breath, and it's my turn to comfort her. With Rosie on one side, and me on the other, the three of us watch as Emmett takes the water first, his face determined.

It's late-afternoon but the sun is still bright – the final hours of light always the brightest before the sun begins to disappear, and the light starts to dip and grey. Emmett carves into the four-footers, nailing a couple of turns and just generally doing a good job. There's something about the way he handles himself in the water that's different to Edward. In the water, Emmett is all power and drive. The boys have likened him to a great white; dangerous and single-minded. Emmett's legs propel him through the waves, throwing a tonne of spray as he moves, like he's using everything he has, every cell of every tissue in his body, to push him that little bit further. It all pays off as he completes a near-perfect run before splashing down into the water.

Edward, on the other hand, is graceful. His run affords him the space to swoop up and down the back side of the waves, his board an extension of his legs, his body dipping and curving with the water. My heart clenches as he rises over the crest of a wave, his board airborne for a moment before slipping back into the water effortlessly, earning him a cheer from the crowd. Back and forth, he slices across the wave, floating across the lip and down again, his legs pumping the board beneath him, his centre of gravity low. The twenty-minutes he's in the water feels like an eternity.

Finally, the crowd cheers again as he finishes. I have absolutely no idea who won the round. The next heat starts without the results from Edward and Emmett's heat being announced, so for twenty-minutes, we wait anxiously, half watching the action in the water, half in our own world as the nerves eat away at our sanity. Finally, the loudspeaker crackles and the announcer reveals the results.

"Round five, heat two. Emmett Masen – Australia, versus Edward Masen – Australia. Winner: Emmett Masen."

I'm not sure whether to cheer or be upset. Edward lost, but Emmett now moves onto the semifinal. Not to mention the fact that, even though he lost, Edward has come tied for fifth position, better than anyone had expected him to do.

Esme is a bubble of excitement beside me. "Fifth!" she giggles. "He's going to be so stoked."

"Will we get to see him?" I ask, standing already, on my tiptoes in the sand, looking for him.

Esme places a gentle hand on my back. "No, no. If I know Edward, he'll stay in the tent until Emmett is done. He's always a mess at these things, he's worse than I am."

As we sit in the sand again, I imagine him hunched at the back of the competitor's tent, wringing his hands, digging holes in the sand with his feet as they worry the ground beneath him.

An hour later, the semifinals are over, and it's down to just two surfers; Jared and Emmett.

I can't watch as Jared surfs. With my head in my knees, I listen to the crowd cheer around me, my hand clasped tightly around Rosalie's. She's quiet, her nerves passing that point of excitement and into stony silence.

Once his run is over, I lift my head.

"How'd he go?"

Rosie shrugs, her lips thin as she stares out at the water, waiting for Emmett to dive in. Her leg jiggles rapidly as she watches him cut through the water. My heart is beating so hard it feels like it's in my throat. I just want it all to be over.

I don't know what he does, but a few times the crowd erupts into bursts of cheering, and Rosie tenses on the sand beside me. The announcer says something about lay-backs and front-sides and all I know is that he somehow maneuvers his board in a complete circle in the air, which earns him a round of applause so loud it's almost deafening. As the final siren blows, he appears at the run-out, the barrel crashing behind him, washing out to nothing, and the crowd erupts. Somehow, everyone knows that Emmett's run has won him the comp, and he fist pumps the air, holding them above him as his board slows and finally dumps him. The boys are on their feet, clapping and yelling loudly, whistling and carrying on. It takes Rosie and I a moment to gather ourselves, she's still frozen solid, a smile blazing across her delicate features, her blue eyes glossy with tears.

Sand flies up around us as we embrace, laughing and smiling. Emmett has done the one thing that he's always wanted. Forget the money and the trophy. Forget the glory and the title. He's just won a world ranking on home turf, just kilometers from his hometown with his family and friends watching on. The happiness around me is palpable, and suddenly I can totally understand why these guys go through all the shit they do. The training, the food, the early mornings, and the tension – it's so very worth it. And I'm not even the one competing.

By the time Emmett emerges from the ocean, Edward is already at the water's edge, practically gagging to get to him. Pushing past some officials, they grip hands with a loud slap and embrace in a manly hug, complete with back slaps and stupid-silly grins. Esme and Carlisle barely get a look in before Rosie finds Emmett, ignoring the water dripping off his suit as she throws her arms around him.

Dry, and in normal clothes, Edward slips out of the melee to find me, scooping me up and squeezing me so hard I can barely breathe.

"Hey," he says as he puts me down, keeping me close as people come and go around us.

My hands flap around as I wiggle excitedly. "Oh my fucking God! You were awesome. I'm so excited." I press kiss after kiss on his lips, congratulating him as he laughs, accepting the loud smack of my lips against his cheeks and mouth and neck, and anywhere else I can get to.

"I'm so proud of you," I say quietly, holding his face in my hands. With his arms wrapped around me, he ducks his head, the skin on the back of his neck and the tips of his ears turning a little pink.

"Come on," I say, grabbing his hand. "You hungry? Stupid question. You must be knackered too. Do you have a ride home, or do you want to come with me and Rosie?"

Edward clamps a hand over my mouth. His eyes are bright against the stark white of his t-shirt – one of at least a dozen new sponsor-branded t-shirts he's got – his hand cool against my face. "I'm going to tell you something, okay?"

I nod.

"You have to promise not to freak out."

Slower this time, I nod again.

He takes a deep breath and opens his mouth. And then shuts it again. And then opens it and makes a long, deep groaning noise. "Fuck. Why is this the most nervous I've been all day?" His hand is still pressed over my mouth, but he steps forward a little.

"I love you."

It's my turn for the skin of my face to heat. And it does, warming beneath his touch. I blink a few times.

"You're s'posed to say something," he says, looking nervous.

I point to his hand, still firmly clamped over my mouth. He removes it, keeping his arms wrapped around me, as though he's worried I'm going to bolt.

"I don't know how to answer without sounding corny or stupid."

He scrubs a hand over his head. "Well, you don't have to say anything, I guess…"

"No! I…I just don't want you to think I'm saying it to make you feel better or something, 'cause I'm not. I do. Love you, I mean. I'm _in_ love with you."

The tension in his shoulders evaporates before my eyes, and his head sinks to my shoulder, his forehead pressing against my neck. "Thank fuck for that."

It's not particularly romantic, or earth-shatteringly poetic, but as the warm sand seeps between my toes, and the sun shines on my shoulders, I really couldn't think of anything else more fitting for Edward and I.

He lifts his head from my shoulder, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Can we eat now?"

* * *

***Note:** I've taken some liberties with the way things work here. I've never been to a surfing competition, so have no idea how they work other than the small amount of research I've done.

* * *

**Bintang:** If you've ever been to Thailand (which a lot of Aussies have since it's relatively close), you'll know what Bintang is. It's the local beer over there, and it seems you can't leave Thailand without buying a crappy singlet with the logo emblazoned on it. I might have a few.

* * *

**Welp, I know I said we wouldn't be here until way after Christmas, but it is what it is. But, we're on the downward hill home, so hold on!**

**Thank you to Thimbles, Tiff and Ink for still having their teeth, since I'm pretty sure I'm rotting most of your teeth with all this sugary fluff. **

**Okay, I'm off to scour the internet for Rob sightings. HE'S IN MY COUNTRY, YO!** **xx Wink**


	28. Twenty-Eight

**Disclaimer: I don't like the Beach Boys. It's true! I also don't own Twilight.  
**

* * *

**Twenty-Eight**

* * *

There are some times when I miss home. I miss my mum and my dad, and the calm of the country.

But today is not one of those days.

It's late afternoon, and a lunch with friends and family has turned into a long lunch, which has turned into drinks and maybe dinner too. The table is crowded with empty glasses and jugs, empty bowls that once held chips and wedges, the lone little leftovers cold and crunchy at the bottom. There are ash trays and packs of cigarettes littering the tabletop, screwed up napkins and stray knives and forks.

My stomach is full with food and cider, and I can barely move. So I don't. Instead, I sit in the sun like a cat, enjoying its warmth and having my friends around me.

The late February sun casts a warm golden glow over the outdoor eatery, warm, but not hideously so. Almost everyone is here, save for a few stragglers. Ben has Lia while Ange works a shift at the bar, and Embry, still enjoying his freedom as a newly minted adult, sits up beside him, talking to Paul.

Jasper is over at a table nearby, talking to some family friends with Alice by his side. It's still so strange to see him with the same girl.

Since the day of the competition, when I found her half-naked in the kitchen, Alice has been somewhat of a fixture at our place. It's taken a little time to bring her out of her shell, she wasn't kidding when she said she was socially awkward, but Rosie and I are warming to her, and it'll be nice to have another female around to even out the numbers - even if she won't go anywhere near the water. Plus, Jasper is a whole lot less of a deviant when she's around, so there's that.

Edward sits across the table from me, a few seats down, beside his brother. He's sitting deep in his seat, looking completely at ease with his hat is low on his forehead, shielding him from the sun, his long legs splayed wide in front of him. I'm only half listening to Kate and Rosie, who are sitting beside me, and when he laughs at something Emmett says, tipping his head back, his perfect white teeth and smile sparkling in the sun, I'm instantly taken back to our first meeting on the beach. Cocky bastard. If only I'd known.

With adoration-filled eyes, I watch as he gets up to greet another well-wisher; another friend here to say goodbye to both he and Emmett.

A part of me is desperate to bury myself beneath his clothes and zip up his bag around me so that he's forced to take me with him. But that niggling little voice in the back of my head reminds me that I've only known this guy for two minutes, and following him around the world with no job, no money, no idea, isn't the best option. The only thing I can do is wait. It's not perfect, but it's all I have.

Anyway, Rosie and Emmett do it, and have done it for years, and they're two seconds away from being the cutest freaking couple I've ever seen. There's something in Rosie that seems to tame Emmett. I've got no doubt that he's raised hell in the past; you can see it in his eyes – that cheeky glint of mischief. But Rosie grounds him in the same way that Emmett brings out the softer, girlier side of Rose. They really are two halves of a whole.

Emmett's been touring since he was sixteen, and as soon as Edward was old enough, he was too. Obviously, no one in their right mind would let a sixteen-year-old girl follow her teenage crush around the world. And to be honest, I think for the moment the situation worked for Emmett and Rosie. But even I can see a change in her as Emmett's departure date looms. She says that every time is harder than the last, no matter how long he'll be gone. I don't know how she's going to handle it this time, even with me here to help soften the blow for her. Fuck, I don't know how _I'm_ going to handle it.

Like he knows I'm starting to wallow, Edward chooses that moment to creep up behind me and wrap his arms around my shoulders, burying his face in my neck.

"You right?"

"Yeah, I'm good." My nose scrunches. "You smell like beer."

"Really?" He takes a deep breath. "Well you smell like that coconut stuff from your shower."

_Coconut stuff._ Trust Edward to call my organic coconut body scrub that cost me an arm and a leg "stuff".

As the afternoon wears on, people come and go, but the core group of boys remain, getting drunker and more obnoxious by the hour.

"You have to watch out for my missus," says Edward, pointing at Jasper. "Make sure those little groms don't get in her way, and make sure she doesn't rip herself up on those rocks out past that left break."

"Yeah, yeah," says Jasper, shifting deeper into his seat, his pinkie intertwined with Alice's between their chairs. "No groms. No cheese grating. Got it."

As stupid as they can be, there's a small modicum of relief knowing that the boys will be there for me while Edward is away. That fact is, these guys aren't just Edward's mates - they're his family. No matter what happens, Edward knows that at any given moment, Rosie, Jasper, Ben, any one of this salt-encrusted bunch of misfits, have got his back. It's unlike anything I've seen; the familial love these people have for each other. And somehow, through sheer luck, I've found myself slap-bang in the middle of it all; one of the "boys", part of the family.

Surfing isn't a pastime, it's just life. Their lives revolve around the ocean, and the pull it has on them, until it becomes rote. Wake, eat, surf, work, eat, surf, sleep. Rinse and repeat. Sleeping in on a Saturday morning? Not fucking likely. These people have salt and sand in their veins, something that connects them like family, and that will continue to do so even when they're on the other side of the world.

It's always just been me and my parents, and to be honest, I've always been pretty happy in my own company. But having an extended family of sorts is proving to be different, but totally, and unexpectedly wonderful.

When Jasper orders another round of beers though, I decide it's time to go.

"We better head," I say quietly to Edward.

He looks down at his watch, pushing his bottom lip out. "Nah, another five minutes."

Gathering my stuff together, I shake my head. "We were s'posed to be at your mum and dad's half an hour ago."

He sighs. "True."

I take a few minutes to say goodbye, and to round up Rosie and Emmett, who were also due for dinner with the Masen family almost an hour ago. As the boys rise to leave, a wave of quiet falls over the table, and one by one, they all take their turn to say goodbye. In true boy style, the guys just piss fart around, making jokes and slapping backs, pretending like they'll see each other tomorrow morning for a dawn patrol like normal.

They like to think no one noticed, but Edward and Jasper shared a little moment earlier. Off to one side, their long, lanky frames backlit by the late afternoon sun, they stood close, quiet words exchanged between two best friends about to step into the unknown without each other. I looked over once, catching Edward's eye over Jasper's shoulder, and even though his eyes were covered as always by his dark glasses, I could tell he was looking right at me, his fingers scratching idly at the centre of his chest as he spoke. I don't know what they said to each other, but really, it's not my business. I'm just glad Jasper has Alice now.

* * *

Rosie's car is hot from sitting in the sun all afternoon. Since I'm the only one sober enough to drive, I slip into the driver's seat, the heat of the car clinging to me instantly. I start the car and turn the air-conditioning on full blast, my hair blowing around my face as the stale air blasts on my face. The steering wheel is scalding to the touch, as is the top of the gear stick. The metal of the seat belt is like a red hot branding iron as I pull it across my lap, the sweat building between my thighs and on my lower back as I crank the air-conditioning up.

"Mother fucker," groans Rosie, twisting her sunshine-coloured hair around her fist and holding it away from her neck. With her hair still wrapped around her fingers, she rolls her window down, letting the breeze cool her sweat-damped skin. The boys are yammering in the back like old biddies, arguing over the limited space in the back, until suddenly Rosie lets out a long, tortured-sounding yowl, leaning half way out of the window.

"No way!"

Edward leans over Emmett in the back seat as they clamber to get a look at the water. Wrapping around the sand bar and dumping right into the main beach are set after set of five-footers. And to make matters worse, the water is almost empty.

"It's out of its mind!" whines Edward.

"We could ditch lunch," offers Em, but Edward shakes his head dolefully.

"Nah, Mum would flip."

In the end, blood really is thicker than water, and the three of them ruefully traipse up the Masen's driveway for a final dinner with the family.

It's a small affair – as small as it can get with five Masen kids, two ring-ins and the parents. Emmett spends half the meal flicking his peas at Embry, while dodging Rosie and Esme, and blaming it on Edward. I can't imagine what it was like when these two were younger.

After dinner, Edward and Emmett take the twins down to the beach for a paddle while Carlisle and Embry duck in for a few quick sets. Esme, Rosie and I stay behind, and after cleaning up the dinner dishes, the three of us sit outside on the verandah and watch the dog chase the sprinkler.

Esme laughs as the dog barks excitedly at the rotating sprinkler arm, his big, fluffy, golden retriever tail wagging. "It'll be strange not having Edward in the house. I've just gotten used to having him back."

In all my selfish inner-turmoil, I haven't even stopped to think that Esme and Carlisle will be losing another son to the tour. To go from having a full house to just three kids will be hard for Esme, especially since she's used to having a gang of rowdy boys to look after.

"You know we'll come and visit," I assure her. "I can bring my washing if you like."

She laughs. "I'll hold you to that."

With the achy feeling of longing already settling deep into my bones, I can't help but think Esme might regret her words.

* * *

**Hold on to your feelings, girls. It's going to get a little bumpy.**

**Thank you as always to Tiff, Thimbles and Inky for their support.** **Thank you also, to your guys for reading.**

**x Wink**


	29. Twenty-Nine

**Thank you Chet and Thimbles.**

* * *

**Twenty-Nine**

* * *

Sometimes you don't know it's love until it breaks your heart.

As dawn's light filters though my blinds, cool and grey, and the rain beats a steady rhythm on my roof, it's then that I feel two hearts echo their last syncopated beats. Our chests are pressed so close together I can't tell which heartbeat is mine and which is Edward's.

It may be cool, wet, and grey outside, but inside my bedroom, on a cool late-February morning, it's hotter than the sun.

With my legs wrapped around his hips, my arms around his ribs, and my head buried in the crook of his shoulder, it still doesn't feel close enough. My fingers slide against his sweat-slicked skin, our breaths mingling between us, only warming our overheated bodies further. As he moves above me, his fingers wrapped over the head of my bed, every inch of my skin demands that I pull him closer, take him deeper, to hold him tighter.

It's desperate, and slow, and silent, and the only thing keeping the tears from rolling down my cheeks into the soft clean sheets of my bed is the rolling wave of heat building at my centre.

His nose brushes my cheek, his quiet pleads to open my eyes falling short because I can't bear to open my eyes – to see the love we both feel, but can't quite find the words to explain.

It hasn't been perfect, our ride. But if I could do it all again, I wouldn't do it any other way. Not a single second.

There are no quiet declarations of love, no whispered words of adoration, but as I open my eyes, dazzling blue making my head swim and my body ache, the truth of his love sinks deep into my bones.

He knows I love him. He knows because I tell him quietly when he does something that makes my heart stutter and my chest expand. I tell him loudly when he's pulling me over the edge of bliss, and whisper it quietly afterwards. I tell him with my eyes when they lock across a room.

He is mine and he knows it.

And how do I know he loves me?

I know he loves me because of the way he watches me; his blue eyes focused intently on my face, as I come apart beneath him. It's in the gentle touch of his hand against my lower back when we're with friends. It's the way he still smiles when we see each other, even if it's only been a few hours.

Love is not words with Edward and I.

It's knowing looks across a crowded table.

It's buttered toast in bed, with just the right amount of Vegemite, spread all the way to the corners just the way he likes it.

It's even in the mornings, when he wakes me up; cold and fresh, smelling like the ocean.

It's knowing what I want before I want it.

And now I have to let it go.

With his hand wrapped around my hip, he pulls me to meet the final erratic jerks of his hips, his low, breathy groan washing over my chest as he crumbles above me, melting, falling and shuddering into his own release.

Silent, we stay entwined in my bed for a while, his head on my chest, my legs still around his hips. I don't care that I'm sticky with sweat and with our love. I don't care that I can't feel my right arm. There are mere minutes left until his alarm goes off, we both know it without even looking.

"You'll wait, right?"

He looks up, and I lift my head to look down at him.

"Don't be stupid."

With his head against my chest again, he gives me a squeeze, his short hair brushing against the underside of my breast.

"It's only eight weeks. Two months. It's nothing."

I try to be reassuring, knowing that he already feels bad leaving. I don't want him to worry about me while he's gone. "Yeah, I know."

From Melbourne, he and Emmett will fly to Indonesia, from there it's Tahiti, Rio, Fiji, and then home again. All these beautiful beaches and far off islands with white sand and crystal clear water – I'd like to say I'm not jealous, but it would be a lie.

Peeling himself from atop me, Edward pulls the doona up over his head, covering us both and blocking out the morning light.

"Maybe I can just stay here."

_Yes. Stay._

"You're an idiot. What would you do?"

It's getting hot under the blankets, but I wrap my arms around him all the same.

"Work at the shop, teach the Nippers. I reckon I could get tourists to pay me to teach them to surf."

I roll my eyes. "And have half the tourist girls drowning," my fingers make air quotes, "in the hope that you'll save them? I think not."

"Oh!" His eyebrows rise. "Jealous are we? You know there's only you, baby," he says, trying to sound smooth, but coming off like a bit of a tosser.

"Only me?" I shove him off of me and throw the doona back, happy for the burst of fresh air. "There are three of us in this relationship, and you know it."

Edward rolls onto his back, reaching for his alarm. Turning it off, he settles on his back, a crease forming between his eyes. "Huh?"

"There's you," I say, throwing a leg over him and sitting astride him. "There's me." Edward nods, palming my exposed boobs as I lean forward, my face only centimeters from his. "And there's the big blue saltwater bitch outside."

He laughs as I nuzzle into his shoulder, breathing in him morning smell of warm skin and hours old love. "Right, right, can't forget about her." He sighs, giving my boobs one last gentle squeeze. "Although, I'd say you're a close second." I dig my fingers into his ribs, holding on for dear life as he bucks and wiggles beneath me, giggling. "Okay, okay. I'm kidding, you know I'm kidding."

The fact is I'm happy coming a close second. I knew what Edward was like from the beginning. Hell, Jasper even warned me that nothing would come between Edward and his board. And the fact is that I'm not the kind of girl to interfere with a love like that. The sea might be a seductive mistress that rips him away from me while the morning is still dark and new, and when the swells are good, or basically any time there's a break over one or two foot. But at the end of the day I feel secure knowing that I'm one of Edward's two loves. He might up and leave me in the middle of the day at sound of a text message – no doubt one of the boys 'it's going off!'- but I'm always the one he comes home to when he's done with her. A seductive bitch the ocean might be, but she has crabs, and I pee in the ocean all the time.

Game, set, match.

He takes a deep breath. "I better get up."

Well. Sometimes she gets the upper hand.

Rosie is already up, in the kitchen making a coffee while Emmett packs the car.

I poke her hip as I walk around her. "Hey."

Her answering smile is tight-lipped, and I know it's all she can give me without crying. Her teaspoon clinks against the side of the cup as she stirs her milk and sugar through.

"Kettle's still hot," she says. The heaviness of the situation blankets the mood between us, and suddenly all the light-hearted banter in the bedroom feels like a waste of valuable time.

Emmett is just as quiet as he moves between the car and the bedrooms, picking up Edward's stuff and packing it into his van. It'll be strange not seeing that bright yellow piece of shit rambling around town. For a fleeting moment I wish I'd argued with Edward about driving them to the airport, just so I could sit up front one last time and breathe in the familiar smell of the cracked leather interior mingled with peppermint gum and board wax. The thought of the sunshine coloured van sitting at the airport alone, waiting for the boys to return, makes me a little sad. Although the thought of Edward, thousands of miles away, sitting on a sun-lit tropical beach alone makes me even sadder.

But it's better this way. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.

I can hear Edward moving back and forth between the bathroom and the bedroom, getting his stuff together. With a tea in hand, I follow him into the bathroom, watching as he tucks his grown-out hair under a cap.

"Got everything?"

He looks at me in the bathroom mirror, his eyes telling me he's feeling all the things I feel. "Yeah, I think so."

Shoving his toothbrush into his carry-on, he turns and takes the hot cup of tea out of my hands, placing it on the bathroom vanity.

The hot drink that I thought would be soothing gurgles in my belly, to the point that I'm worried it's going to come right back up. I'm so not ready for this yet.

"I'll message you before I get on the plane." His fingers brush the small of my back, slipping under my cotton shirt. Burying my face into his t-shirt, I take one last long, deep breath, inhaling the scent I've come to know as his.

"I want you to call Jasper if you need anything, okay?"

I tug at his t-shirt, trying with everything I have left to keep the moment light. "Anything?"

He smirks half-heartedly. "A month ago he probably would have taken up your offer, but now I'm not so sure."

"I know. He's practically off the market."

We both try a sort of chuckle, but there's no humour behind it, and it just dissipates in the air between us. His arms are tight around my shoulders, our bodies pressed together all the way down to our hips. When he kisses me, I refuse to think of it as a last kiss, but memorize it all the same; the soft skin of his lips, the taste of his minty morning breath, the feel of his hand; warm and gentle against my jaw.

"Love you," he whispers against my mouth, kissing the spot where his words warmed my skin.

My fingers tighten around the material of his t-shirt, unwilling to let him go. "Love you too."

But let him go I do.

With my hand in his, we walk slowly out to the driveway, where the van sits idling. Emmett and Rosie are beside it, whispering quietly, and I watch with a lump in my throat as Emmett kisses her once on the cheek, and then again on the forehead before opening the passenger side door and hopping in.

With a firm squeeze of my hand, Edward leaves me with a kiss but no smile. One of the first things I noticed about Edward was his smile; the way it lights up his eyes and how much he seems to do it. I wish I wasn't the one to wipe that smile from his face.

_This is what he wants. This is what's best._

No sooner is one hand empty than the other is filled; Rosie's smaller, finer structured fingers wrapping around mine as the van crunches into reverse, and rolls out of the driveway slowly. There's no coming back for second or third kisses this time; just the back end of the combi van.

As the van rounds a corner and becomes just a rumble in the quiet morning, a quiet sniffle emerges from beside me. Wrapping my arms around her shoulders, I let Rosie cry quietly into my shoulder, her tears soaking my hair and neck.

I don't know why I don't cry. It's like the lump in my throat seems to block out the emotion that I know is there, but that I've worked so hard to keep under wraps for Edward's sake.

Wiping her cheeks roughly with the back of her hand, Rosie swallows hard, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

"You wanna go for a set?" I ask, gesturing to the beach.

Deliberation crosses her beautiful features, her golden skin splotchy and pink from her tears. In the end she says no, and like last time, we crawl back into bed where we spend the morning dozing and waiting for the final texts to say the boys are about to fly out.

One day.

One day is all I will allow myself to wallow. After that there's nothing I can do but push through and start the countdown.

Two and a half months.

Ten weeks.

Seventy days.

* * *

**Thank you also to Ink and Tiff for talking me off the ledge and patting my head to make me feel better.**

**As always, thank you to everyone reading this salty little story. FYI: the next chapter may be a little bit of a wait. Apparently the achy stuff doesn't come that easily to me.  
**

**x Wink**


	30. Solo Sunrise

**This came out of nowhere. I wasn't planning on doing this until later, and even then it was only going to be once. **

**But he's insistent and wouldn't let me continue without getting a word in.**

* * *

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing but a uncooperative, sulking Bella who refuses to talk to me._**

* * *

A loud ringing beside my ear wakes me, and eyes still closed, I fumble in the dark hotel room for my phone.

"Yeah?"

"You up?"

It's Emmett. "Yep. Gimme twenty."

"Sweet."

I toss the phone aside and take a deep breath, groaning into a stretch. I sat up talking to Bella way too late; I feel like I've only been asleep for a minute.

I rub my eyes, I scrub my hands over my head, and I palm my dick.

_Fuck._

Like I have for the past week, I've woken up with a massive boner. Even the slide of the sheet against me makes it twitch, and my stomach clench.

I really have to start wearing boxers to bed or something.

It's not l like I've never woken up with my dick hard. But this isn't the kind of thing that'll go away when I piss, and after a couple of days of this, it's getting ridiculous. I don't even know what I've been dreaming about that has me waking up so keyed up.

Thank fuck I don't have to share a room with Emmett anymore.

Sitting on the side of the bed, I try to get my shit together and wake up. My phone is still on the pillow beside me, and leaning over, I put it back on the side table and chug the rest of the bottle of water that's there, wishing the ache in my balls would settle so I can walk to the bloody shower.

It's just before six in the morning, and as tired as I am, the itch has already settled in. I can hear the boys next door already up and moving around, the quiet rumble of voices vibrating through the wall. It's the day before the Keramas Pro, and we've done nothing but train since we arrived in Bali. Today is the first day off I've had since we arrived, and I had planned to sleep in. Looks like Emmett has other plans.

I scratch my cheek roughly, vowing to have a shave before the day is out. It's at that weird stage where it's so long it's starting to itch like fuck. Plus the management team say we're s'posed to be clean shaven at events to maintain our "public image". Between my almost-beard, and the head shaving incident, it's probably best that I toe the line.

I don't even know why I haven't shaved, maybe it's because Bella always liked it when I didn't, or because I'm just a lazy fuck who'd rather be out carving waves than shaving.

Looking down, I find the situation with my dick hasn't changed much. I've still got half a bar and I've gotta be ready in fifteen minutes. I don't know if I can shove my dick into a wettie the way it is. Plus, my brother doesn't wanna see that shit.

Guess there's only one thing for it.

I grab my phone again, swiping my thumb across the banged up screen, unlocking it.

There she is.

My dick twitches again and so does my mouth, cos she does that - she makes me smile.

Licking my lips, I open up my photos and scroll through. She'd flip out if she knew I had half of these, but I'm a sneaky fuck like that.

There's heaps of us at the beach and stuff, making those stupid faces at the camera, looking like a pair of idiots. But there's a couple that I took when she wasn't looking, too. Some of her on the beach in her bathers, and at the pub and stuff. But my favourite is the one where she's asleep.

Jesus, maybe she's right, I am a creep.

It's just such a fucking great photo.

Her legs are so long, and her tits are perfect. I know she thinks they're small or whatever, but I love them. They fit in my hand and my mouth like they were made to be there. I remember taking the photo. I remember having that stupid just-fucked grin on my face, and the smell of her room when I came back in; like her body and mine, and the smell of us: that sweet, kind of sweaty smell that lingered in the air. The sheet covers her in the one place I want to see, but what's there is enough; her legs and hips and an expanse of her perfect skin, and Christ, I need to get into the shower before I blow my load all over the hotel carpet.

Chucking the phone back onto the nightstand, I walk awkwardly into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me in case Emmett decides to make a surprise visit. I should never have given him a key to my room.

It's not even six am and I'm already hot, the tropical humidity clings to me from the moment I wake to the moment I go to sleep, but the idea of a cold shower doesn't appeal to me or my balls this morning. I know I'm just going to have to come back and shower after we surf it anyway, so I don't bother with the soap or anything. Fuck pretenses when all I can think about are her tits and those legs.

I reckon I'm the only guy who whacks off thinking about his girlfriend. Poor Miranda Kerr has taken a bit of a backseat since Bella came to town. But I can't find it in me to think of anyone else as the hot water pours over my shoulders and the back of my legs. With my hand wrapped around my dick, her words ring in my ears and I can't help but smile a bit. _"At least you'll have old righty there."_

Just the thought of her voice makes me harder, and true to what I said, the feel of my own hand is nothing compared to her. But I'm so fucking hard that my hand is already moving, and whether it's my touch or not, fuck it feels good.

I imagine it's her mouth not my hand, and just the thought of her lips around me, of her pretty brown eyes looking up at me through her wet lashes, sends jolt of heat to my groin. My fist tightens and my pace quickens as I think about the way the water makes her hair look so dark, shiny and wet against her skin. The way it drapes over her nipples like she's a fucking goddess, kneeling at my feet with my dick in her mouth. I think about all the quiet little noises she makes, and the way she digs her short little fingernails into the skin at my hips as she takes me deeper. I know I could be quieter - who knows if Emmett's waiting for me on the other side of the door - but with my hand splayed wide on the tiled wall, I picture her soft cheeks hollowing around the end of my dick as I come, my knees going soft and my gut trembling.

Panting and flushed, I step back under the water and let the hot water calm my heartbeat and wash away the rush of loneliness. As nice as it is to have blood flow back to my legs, having my girl here instead of my right hand would have been better.

But a loud bang on the bathroom door pulls me out of my wallowing, and true to form, Emmett's voice booms through the thin walls.

"Finish jerkin' it another time. Laurent says the reef on the other side of the island's pullin' eight-footers."

I blink the water out of my eyes, wiping it from my nose.

"That French fuck. Gimme a sec, alright?"

Laurent tends to spin a bit of shit, and more than once we've followed him to some "secret spot" to find nothing but glass and two footers. But the draw of an eight-foot is too much to ignore, and I barely even dry myself off, giving Emmett an eyeful as I slip out of the bathroom to grab my wetsuit from the balcony.

For once though, Laurent is right. The little reef about half an hour's drive from Keramas is throwing sick right-handers that make getting up at the crack of dawn totally worth it. We surf it for a few hours, until the rumbling in the pit of my empty stomach is too much, and we have to get out and find some brekky or something.

We find a little road-side restaurant a few kilometers up the road; it looks dodgy as fuck but we're all hanging to eat, so by that time we pretty much don't give a shit what it is. We take a seat outside, munching on fruit and nasi goreng, keeping the wait staff happy as we order meal after meal, trying to sate the burning hunger from a morning in the water.

"Gunna get hectic tomorrow or what, Ed?" says Emmett around a mouthful of rice.

We've always been competitive, and rivalry between us has jumped up a notch since his win at Bells. I'm in top form and he knows it. He knows it and he's shit scared.

I just grin at him, which makes him laugh. I'll get him one day.

After spending pretty much all of my time eating, sleeping and thinking surfing, you'd think the excitement of it would wear off.

Not a fucking chance.

So far the surf in Bali has been off its tits, and as knackered as I am when I go to sleep, it's still what gets me up in the morning. I love what I do, and the fact that I get paid for it is bloody awesome.

Before everything with Embry, before I went home and took some time off from the tour, I used to think I could spend every day just sleeping and surfing. I'd look forward to going home after the tour and seeing the family, but then after a couple of days in Clearwater, I'd be itching to get back out again.

This time it's different though. While I'm stoked to be back on the circuit with all the boys, and to spend some time with my brother; Jesus, I miss my girl.

When we pull up to somewhere like Keramas or Green Ball and the waves are charging, my first instinct is to call her and be like, "You gotta check out this mad surf, babe!" Sometimes I'll send her a photo, email it to her later or whatever - when I remember. But the photos don't really show much and half the time I forget.

But I call her every day, or she calls me. She's really good at being supportive, and listens to me talk shit for a bit before I ask her what's she's doing, and sometimes just hearing her voice is enough to get me through another night on my own. Until I wake up with a mega-boner that is.

I have to keep telling myself that it hasn't even been a week. It's only been six days and I'm already hanging out to see her; I'm already counting down the weeks and days. I've turned into such a pussy!

Don't get me wrong, I want to be here more than anything, and nothing beats the adrenaline of taking the water at a comp, but to say that I don't think about dropping it all and flying home just to see Bella would be a lie.

But in the end, this is the decision I – _we_ – made.

It's so weird to be a _"we"_. I never thought I'd be a_ "we"_ with anyone until that girl basically knocked the wind out of me that day on the beach.

But what am I s'posed to do? She can't leave, and I can't stay. So yeah, it is what it is. I deal with missing her the only way I know how; by getting on with shit and counting down the days.

How long can I do that? Who the fuck knows. Hopefully, one day I can wake up in my hotel bed with her next to me, and it won't be a problem.

Until then, looks like me and righty are gunna be best friends for a while.

* * *

**Apologies for Edward's foul mouth. But hey, you want an Aussie guy - you got one.**

**Thank you to Ink, Thimbles and Tiff for their usual beta work. Any errors are my own. **

**Thank you for being patient. xx Wink**


	31. Thirty

**Disclaimer: I only own this story.  
**

* * *

**Chapter Thirty**

**"_Thinking about the times I know I should have taken photographs, something to rely on, sharper than a memory." – 'Vibrations in Air' Josh Pyke_**

* * *

I'm determined after Edward goes on tour not to be the mopey girl left behind.

One week. Seven days. Well, eight and a half, but who's counting. That's how long I give myself to pout and cry, to watch The Notebook and Atonement on repeat, to cling to the thread-bare t-shirt I'd smuggled from his luggage. After that I drag my ass out of bed and force myself into a routine again.

At first it's not easy, trying to find routine when my most of my days leading to the tour revolved around Edward. But after a week or so I find a rhythm, find ways to keep myself busy.

Almost as if it senses the shift, the autumn weather rolls in bringing bright sunny days with an unexpected crispness in the air. The sunlight hours are dwindling, and before long the rain sets in, casting the sky in a constant grey-blue. The mornings are cooler, and the nights close in faster—Summer is over and it's almost as if Clearwater mourns the loss of the boys as I do. But the icy wind and steady rain feels welcomed, like a balm for my sun-scorched insides, a cleansing reprieve for the half-soul that sits waiting for the sun to warm it again, for him to return and make us whole again.

Today the steady sound of rain pitter-patters against the windows and roof, while the sky is morose and dark outside my lounge room window. My hair is still damp from a morning in the frigid surf, the ends curling limply around my shoulders and smelling of sea-water and fresh air – a smell I never seem to either get rid of or tire of. Alice and I sit on the floor of our living room, while Rosie is draped across on the sofa behind us. There are university course guides and programs spread out over the carpet beside a half-eaten bag of fun-size Mars Bars and a little stack of 'Tracks' and 'Surfing Life' magazines. Emmett's face practically leaps from one of their covers, his cheeky grin and bright blue eyes losing none of their dazzling effect even in print. Ranked in the top five, he's been a presence in more than one of the magazines, his no nonsense attitude and Aussie larrikin vibe making him a clear favourite. There are a few smaller pictures of Edward inside; a couple from the Bells Beach Pro, and some from the Gold Coast, but nothing major, and nothing really worth saving since I have better ones. Still, we devour every last article and photo, every sports report and five-second glimpse of them on the news. We take everything we can get but it's still never enough.

"What about psychology?" says Rose. "Vic Uni has a good course you could do part-time."

With her legs dangling over the back of the couch, her head hangs over the edge of the sofa cushion, a VU course guide in her hands, her hair tumbling onto the floor beside me.

I shrug, not particularly interested in analysing people's crazy when I can barely decipher my own.

"I think you have to do your Masters to do anything good with Psychology," says Alice, flipping through the TV channels. "Which makes it four years of studying, plus interning or whatever. You'd be _thirty_ before you could even think about earning decent money again."

She whispers the word _thirty_ like it's a bad word.

"What about journalism? I could write stuff."

Rosie agrees, searching the couch for something. "Melbourne Uni has a good journalism course apparently."

"You'll need a portfolio." In response to my silence, Alice turns, her green eyes flickering between me and the TV. "A collection of writing to show them before you can be accepted."

Something I neither have, nor have the ability to put together.

"Ugh, this is stupid," I groan, my fists slamming against the carpet in frustration. There's so much to look at, so many courses, pathways, options—I don't even know where to begin. "Just forget about it. It's not like working at Mint-"

"No!" interrupts Alice, tossing the remote onto the couch where Rosie retrieves it and continues to flick channels. "You need to stop being so scared to start your life, Bella. Pick something. If you don't like it you can change. It's not that big of a deal!"

For a girl who looks like she weighs about thirty kilos, Alice sure knows how to drive a point home.

"Show me what else you're looking at" she urges, sliding across the carpet until her hip is flush with mine. She peers over the top of the book, reading. "An Arts Degree?"

I shrug, nodding slightly too.

Her eyes flick side to side as she skims the course outline, and after a moment she smiles. "I like it."

She then launches into the pros and cons of starting an arts degree, convincing me more and more with each minute that she's going to make a killer lawyer. Of course, even after her rousing speech, I can't help but be unsure about it all. Maybe she's right, maybe I am scared.

"Isn't an arts degree what you do when you don't know what you want to do?" says Rosie, absentmindedly as she watches TV.

Alice rolls her eyes slightly, but pushes on. "That's why it's perfect! Look-" She points to the book, tapping the paper. "You can major in creative writing and then pick a bunch of other stuff that interests you. Cultural studies, political science; you should totally do this."

"I guess."

Edward. Work. Money. My future. Edward. A million things tumble through my head at the prospect of going back to school. Am I too old? I don't think I even remember how to study, let alone sit exams or assignments. Will I have to cut back at work? How much is this course going to cost me?

"And, you can stay with me in the city when I go back to school! Plus, there's like three months holidays over the summer, so you and Edward can spend the whole time together!"

Gnawing at the inside of my cheek, my nerves start to kick up a notch. "But what if I'm no good at it? What if I fail?"

Alice nudges my side with hers. "What if you don't? And what's more, what if you love it?"

Sighing, I pick up a handful of Rosie's hair, playing with her saltwater-curled hair as it tumbles over the sofa between Alice and me.

"I need to think about it a bit more."

I really wish Edward wasn't halfway around the world. Times like this I'd really like his advice, or just to know what he thinks of the whole idea. In fact, at the moment, I'd just settle for a hug.

Staring at the booklet in my hand, I realise that Alice is right – I'm so busy worrying about the future that time is passing me by and I'm still no further along than I was six months ago. Has it all been a waste of time? Am I where I'm supposed to be at this point in my life? As hard as I try though, I can't bring myself to regret a single thing I've done. Not moving to Clearwater, not spending an entire summer bumming around the beach with new friends, and certainly not meeting Edward.

Alice is right, now isn't the time for fear. If watching Edward follow his dream has taught me anything at all, it's that you have to do things that are scary sometimes.

Rosie turns to me, and I can feel her blue eyes boring into the side of my face. After a moment, she speaks quietly. "You okay?"

Forcing a smile, I nod.

Clucking her tongue, she tugs her hair out of my fingers and turns onto her stomach, her face resting on my shoulder. "Talk to me."

Moving the focus to the carpet beneath my legs, I scratch my short nails through the worn pile, shrugging. "Do you ever think about going on tour with Emmett?"

Her brow furrows and when I turn to look at her she's looking at me with eyes that are so like Jasper's sometimes that I forget who I'm talking to. "Sometimes. More this year than ever before. You?"

"I don't know. Maybe. How do you keep doing it? Saying goodbye all the time?"

Rosie sighs sadly, resting her head on my shoulder gently, her cheek pressed to mine. "We're getting pretty good at saying goodbye, I guess." She breathes a quiet chuckle. "God that sounds sad."

I wrap my arms around my knees as I bring them to my chest. "But I don't want to be sad all the time. It's tiring and-" I press the heel of my hand to the ever present empty ache in my chest "-it hurts."

Her long, golden brown arms around me, Rosalie's scent of vanilla and coconut envelops me as she holds me tightly. "I know."

Sometimes I think that's all you need; someone to understand, to empathise with the way you're feeling. Knowing she's hurting the same hurt has this profound effect on our relationship that makes me feel like maybe I can get through this with her by my side. Sighing, I hug her back, incredibly thankful to have her in my life.

The two of us talk quietly, still pressed together, while Alice fills out an application form for me, her brows pulled together in concentration as she writes. When an iPhone trills somewhere in the house, its source hidden in either mine or Rosie's bedroom, both she and I scramble up off the floor, almost tripping over Alice in our attempt to stand. Rose bolts down the hallway, bouncing of the wall like a pinball as she runs to catch the call. But I reach my room first. Flashing at me from my desktop is my phone.

Breath held in my lungs, I pick it up.

"It's mine," I yell, exhaling. "It's just my dad."

I hear a soft thump as Rosie throws herself onto her bed in dismay.

"Hi, Dad."

"G'day, love. How are you?"

His low, throaty voice washes over me, and a sense of familiarity and calm settles into my bones like only he can bring. "I'm okay. How are you?"

He answers with the obligatory, "Fine", and continues on. Life on the farm is the same as it always is; something which I think my dad likes - that sense of routine and normality that would send me through the roof. Cradling the phone between my shoulder and my ear, I pick my bikini top up off the floor and toss it into the corner where my washing sits.

"So how's Edward? You spoken to him lately?"

And there it is again; that little tightening in my throat, the physical reminder of his absence. Swallowing around the lump, I bend to pick up another dirty item of clothing and send it sailing across the room. "He's great. I spoke to him yesterday. He and Emmett are doing really well. Emmett came second in Bali, which is really good. Edward reckons he'll sweep Teahupoo—"

"Te-what-poo?" chuckles Dad. He thinks he's so funny.

"Te-a-hupo, Dad. It's a beach in Tahiti. It's where the next leg of the competition is."

"Tea-hippo-poo, huh? Doesn't sound like a nice beach to me."

I can hear his smile from the other side of the phone; imagine his eyes sparkling with concealed laughter.

"You're such a dag."

This makes him laugh, his bass-filled chuckle reverberating through the phone.

"So is Edward catching any _gnarly_ waves?"

My arm hovers mid-air, a patent leather heel in my hand. "Gnarly?"

"I've been Googling. Your mum taught me how to Google."

It's my turn to smile. "Wonders will never cease."

The idea of my Dad sitting behind a computer is absurd. He'd be a one-finger-typer, scanning the keyboard looking for the 'G' key, then the 'N'. It must have driven my mum batty.

"Yeah, Dad, he's catching some pretty gnarly waves."

Listening to Dad and his Googling exploits, I turn the shoe over in my hand, rubbing my fingers over the glossy black surface.

"Well, I better put your mum on. She's called you, you know. You should try calling her back."

Guilt rushes over me, and I drop the heel to the carpeted floor with a thud, plopping down onto the edge of my bed. "Yeah, I know."

Dad murmurs his agreement quietly before saying goodbye and handing the phone to my mum.

"Hey, sweetie!"

If she's upset that I haven't called, she doesn't let it show, and the warmth of her voice soothes the ache in my chest, makes the swollen feeling in my throat abate, even if just for a moment. The reprieve from the longing is welcomed, and I lie back on my bed, phone at my ear, listening to the familiar cadence of my mum's voice.

"How are you and Rosie doing without the boys around?"

I shrug, knowing she can't see it, as I pick at a loose thread on my doona cover. "I'm doing okay. I talk to him almost every day, and he sounds really happy."

My mum's answer is a beat of silence followed by a quiet, _mh-hm_. "I didn't ask how he was. I asked how you were."

"Yeah, I said I'm fine."

She sighs, and I imagine her brows creased with worry. "You're too much like your dad sometimes. You know it's okay to say that you're sad."

"I'm fine, Mum. Don't worry, okay?" It's a little snippy and completely forced, but her worry just makes me feel silly. I can deal with this.

"Okay, I was just asking. Calm down. Did you get those pamphlets I sent you? They were with your phone bill. Did you pay your phone bill?"

"Yeah, I paid it last week. I haven't really looked at the course guides yet."

I'm a terrible liar. I just want to make sure that this is really what I want to do before I go any further.

"Okay, well, I just thought maybe you could find something that interests you. Did you look at Vic Uni?"

A rush of noise; thongs on the tiles, laughter, Alice's giggle, tells me that Jasper is home and that the boys are with him.

"I gotta go, Mum. I'll call you next week some time."

She answers me with a sarcastic _uh-huh_. "Just make sure you call your nan. It's her birthday next week."

"Yeah, okay. Love you."

"Love you too. Give Edward our best when you talk to him."

Tossing my phone to the side, I sit up on the side of the bed, toeing the black heel that lies at my feet. I can't even remember the last time I wore heels, let alone that pair of neck-breakers.

Two minutes later my bedroom door flies open, banging against the wall. "Oi."

Riley stands in my doorway, a ripped singlet falling off his tanned shoulders, a pair of well-worn boardies on his hips.

"Oi yourself. You should knock," I tease. "I could have been naked."

He laughs, scratching a hand through his shaggy, chin-length hair. "I can come back if you're going to be naked."

I toss the shoe at him, which he dodges, laughing. "Nah, just kidding. Mase would rip me a new one if I copped an eyeful of you naked."

"Hey, Bella, you want a drink?" yells Jasper from the kitchen, his voice followed by the clinking of bottles and the telltale hiss of an opening beer.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I look around my messy room, and at the pile of washing I was about to start. There are definitely things I could be doing that are more important that spending time with my friends.

Riley moves tentatively into my room, looking equal parts scared of being in a girl's room, and of feeling the wrath of a certain best friend.

"Come on," he says, offering me a hand.

I check the time on my phone; six-thirty here means it's only just four-thirty in the morning where Edward is. Riley grins down at me from beneath a mess of shaggy hair and beard, wiggling his fingers at me.

"Yeah, alright."

* * *

"What's with your hair?" I tease, brushing a hand across Jasper's head as I slip into the chair beside him.

Swiping my hand away, he rubs a hand over it, smoothing it back into place. "I'm growing it out."

I snort. "Why? You look like a zebra."

"I dunno," he says, looking very interested in the label on the neck of his beer bottle. "Alice said I should."

A mouthful of beer almost chokes me. "So, what? You'll be blonde? Cos of a girl?"

He nods, rolling his eyes.

I try my hardest to imagine him with blonde hair like Rosie's. For as long as I've known him it's been dark, and combined with the ink and his piercings he's definitely got a "look" going on. The idea of a blonde haired, blue eyed, poster-boy look-alike just doesn't sit right. "How long has it been since you were blonde?"

Jasper takes a swig of his drink. "Fucking ages. I'm just going to shave it so it doesn't look so stupid. It looks stupid doesn't it?"

He sighs when I answer with a nod, looking really kind of put out at the fact that his beloved hair will get the chop, and I wonder why he agreed to it in the first place.

"You love her."

His head whips sideways and blue eyes meet mine. "You're drunk."

I hold up a half-empty bottle. "I've had three beers. You love her."

Jasper screws up his nose, looking away as he takes a drink.

He might act flippant, but I can see right through him; especially when he can't take his eyes off of the short, dark-haired babe that's just walked out the back door. Good for him though. To go from the kind of guy your girlfriends tell you is bad news, to this loved-up guy who's cutting his much beloved hair just because a girl told him to, is shocking and romantic all at once.

When the boys and Alice decide to move on to the pub, Rosie and I bow out, left instead with a kitchen full of empty beer bottles and pizza boxes. It's after one-thirty by the time I get to bed, stripping down to my undies and singlet top before I slip under the sheets. With Rosalie sneaking into my bed of late, I've taken to sleeping in clothes again. Edward would not approve.

I cradle the phone against the side of my head, smiling when he picks up on the first ring.

"Hey, you."

"Hey." I settle on top of my sheets in the dark, my feet hanging off my bed.

"What are you doing up? What time is it there?"

No matter where he is, Edward just can't seem to grasp the time zone thing. I glance over at my radio clock. "Almost two in the morning."

"You work tonight?"

"Nah, Jasper had the boys over. We had a drink." My foot taps a beat as my eyes start to droop closed, the dark of my bedroom and the soft sheets beneath me pulling me into a sleepy state.

"Yeah?" He sounds kind of sad.

"It was alright. It's not the same though."

His voice is quiet. "Yeah, same."

I take a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. The touch of alcohol in my system has made me drowsy and a little fuzzy inside. "I miss you."

"Yeah, I miss you heaps."

It's quiet where he is, which isn't normal. Normally he'll call me from a car somewhere, or a beach, or an airport. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Sitting around waiting for Emmett to finish some photo thing for O'Neill."

O'Neill are one of the boys' biggest surf sponsors, and it's part of their contract to do two photo shoots a year for their wetsuits and swim gear. I guess Edward lucked out since he hates that stuff.

"Are you in bed?" he asks, sighing.

I make a humming noise in the affirmative.

"I think I've been dreaming about you lately," he says out of the blue, and my eyes open slowly, as I think about what he's said.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I keep waking up with a massive boner."

A rush of heat pools in the pit of my stomach, but I chuckle quietly anyway. "Oh. So, what ... does it just go away?"

"Sometimes."

We're both silent as the tension between us thickens, the air in my room suddenly increasing a few degrees.

"Do you ... do you think about me?"

I can hear him swallow through the phone, his breath ragged. "Every time."

The heat between my legs builds until it's more of a throbbing. His voice is soft and deep, and for a moment I can feel his words against my ear, his warm breath, the tickle of his to lip against the shell of my ear. The thought sends a pulse of desire through me so deep and hard that my thighs tighten and I can feel the damp material between my legs against the soft skin of my inner leg.

"Do you think about me?" he asks.

"Yes."

"What do you think about?"

My hand slips under the material of my singlet top, and my breath falters as my cool fingertips meet my stomach, moving quickly to the underside of my breast. The touch of my fingertips against my skin makes the words that follow shaky and laboured. "I think about the first time you were here."

"Yeah?" He's silent for a moment, long enough for my fingers to drift up over the small swell of my breast to my nipple. "Tell me."

I exhale a shaky breath, closing my eyes. "I was so nervous."

"_You_ were nervous? Fuck, I thought I was blow the minute you took your clothes off."

We both laugh quietly, but the lightness of his confession does nothing to quell the ache between my legs, the heat that's spreading through my thighs and the pit of my stomach.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

Lifting my head, I make sure my door is closed, and flop back to the bed, my hand back under my shirt, the pads of my fingertips trailing burning paths over my nipple.

"You were so fucking good, Edward. I'd never—the way you kissed me, the way you..." I steel my nerves, "—_fucked_ me."

The ragged breath that answers my words is like a flame to my already overheating insides. My body is torn between its need for release, and the want that sits hot and heavy in my stomach as I wish more than anything that it was his hands not my own. But as my hand moves down my stomach and beneath my underwear, I figure I might as well do this.

"Do you remember?" I ask, imagining him on his back atop a hotel bed, his hand down his pants, his eyes shut tight.

"I remember everything, Bella."

With my legs propped up on the edge of my bed, I can almost feel his hot breath between them, feel his hair tickle my inner thighs.

"Can you remember-" I swallow my fear of embarrassment as my fingers brush against my heat softly, "-what I taste like?"

Edward's answering groan is almost pained. "You tasted like the best fucking thing ever," he breathes. "I miss it. I miss your hands and your mouth and your ... fuck. Hang on."

My hand stills between my legs, my thighs trembling, my fingers slick.

"You there?" he says a moment later.

"Yeah."

"I gotta go."

The elastic of my undies snaps against my hip as I snatch my hand out. "Are you fucking serious?"

He groans. "I really wish I wasn't."

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, trying to swallow around the heartbeat in my throat. "You owe me."

He chuckles. "I think I owe you more than one when I get home. Just think about me walking around with a hard on all day while you're asleep."

I laugh shakily. "That's not helping."

"I'll make it up to you. I promise."

"You better."

"I gotta go," he says with a sigh. "Love you."

"Love you too."

* * *

**Thank you as always to Shell and Tiff for the beta they did on this a thousand years ago, and to Ink for prereading. I've made quite a few changes so any and all mistakes are mine. **

**Thank you also to anyone left reading. RL has been crazy, big things that I won't bore you with.  
**

**xx Wink**


	32. Thirty-One

**Disclaimer: All of the usual things. Although I must warn you that I'm listening to Laura Marling's new album so this chapter has come out a little sadder than expected.**

* * *

**Thirty-One**

* * *

"She's getting rough," says Jasper, his eyes scanning the horizon over my shoulder as the two of us bob out past the breakers, legs slung over our boards. He rubs his hands together, grinning excitedly. "Gunna be a ripper."

A cold wind whips across the water, sending a chill through my wetsuit, right to the bone. I'm not cut out for storm surfing; the mammoth waves and churning sea – I leave that to the pros. Sure enough, a moment later I spot Embry's lanky form paddling past a few metres away, answering the call of the howling wind and angry sea. He lives for days like this; for the type of cavernous violent wave that towers over him, the type of wave that even Jasper wants nothing to do with.

Still unable to stand for more than a few heartbeats, I know when to get my pasty butt out of the water. Today, however, had been an exception to the rule. After three straight days of rain and wind and shitty surf conditions, there was finally a break in the weather. Approaching storm or not, I, like everyone else, took the chance to suit up and paddle out. But after wipe out after wipe out I'm beginning to think I should have stayed at home. The thing is that I never feel closer to Edward than I do when I'm in the water. The idea that somewhere a million miles away he's probably doing the same thing brings me a calm like nothing else can.

Peeling my ponytail from the back of my neck and slinging it over my shoulder, I turn to watch the approaching storm; the water bright green against the dark grey sky. It's coming up fast, and the clouds are heavy and dark, looming low across the horizon. The air feels heavy around us, crackling with anticipation. Jasper's right; it's going to be a big one. Time to get my ass out of here.

"I'll meet you at home then. Don't be late for work."

Waving to a group of guys as they paddle past, Jasper swings his legs up, his chest pressed to the deck. "Righto."

I do the same, my so-cold-they're-numb toes pressed tight against the board.

"Just try one more time," urges Jasper, gesturing to the waves.

"I don't know if I've got the energy," I sigh, resting my cheek against the board.

"Nah, one more."

The thought of another wipeout, of more saltwater up my nose, turns my stomach.

"Just keep it loose, stay low, and you'll be fine," says Jasper.

Easy for him to say, that guy was born knowing how to surf.

Letting out a long sigh, I paddle forward, my tired arms protesting with each stroke. There are a few people out, but the waves are relatively small game for most everyone but me. Paddling, I check the wave over my shoulder, swimming harder as it approaches. The back of the board lifts slightly as the wave takes me, and with all of the energy I have left, I tuck my feet beneath my body and lift myself up, my arms out wide beside me. Maybe it's the natural softness of my worn out legs, or the fact I'm barely trying, but almost instantly I can feel the difference. For once, the board isn't rigid beneath my feet; it's fluid and soft and glides over the waves as they take a hold of me. It isn't me and the surfboard and the waves, it's just me, my mind suddenly blank of everything but an overwhelming sense of nothing. I can feel the water rippling under the board, feel its strength and its power. Beautiful and ferocious, the tumble of water beneath me shows me just why this indescribable moment is so addictive, why someone would chase this feeling around the world and back.

In the back of my mind I hear a roar of cheering and cat calls from somewhere, but my blood is rushing so loud and so hard in my ears that it drowns out everything besides the sound of the waves.

My knees are wobbling from exertion but I keep them as soft as I can, keeping my body weight low and giving the deck a little push to the right, exhilaration exploding through me as the board carves right, edging slightly onto the backside of the wave. I try as hard as I can to keep my balance on the board, letting the water push me along as the wave begins to crest. A little overzealous, I push the board to the right again, shifting my weight a little more, and all of a sudden the bottom falls out of my stomach as the nose of the board disappears beneath the waves and the board shoots out from under my feet, sending me head first into the water.

Beneath the water, the barrel catches me and I'm thrown about like a ragdoll for a moment, the underside of a double set having its way with me before the wave dies out, and I break the surface. Panting and sucking in a lungful of air, I move my hair from my eyes and slide up onto my board, trying to catch my breath as the waves propel me towards the shore.

The cheers are louder now, drifting over the water, a chorus of _yewwwww's_ of my very own. Ecstatic but utterly exhausted, I flop onto the sand, my body shaking with adrenaline, my heart still thundering away in my chest. I don't care that there's sand in my hair, or that I must look like a human-sized starfish on the beach, all I can think is; _I did it – finally!_

I wish Edward was here to see it.

By the time my body begins to cooperate again, the sky is dark and ominous, the waves thundering across the water, cold rain falling in steady sheets. I pick myself up and unzip my wetsuit to my waist, the cold wind buffeting my damp, wrinkled skin. At home, after a rinse off under the garden hose, I peel out of my wetsuit and shiver my way into a hot shower, my feet burning as the hot water hits them, the skin turning an angry red as the blood begins to flow back to my extremities.

Ten minutes after I'm dried and warm in my work uniform, Jasper turns up, his sunshine smile echoed on his twin sister behind him as they clamber through the door.

"Fuck yeah!" yells Jasper, holding up his hand for a high five.

Wrapped in a towel, Rosie throws her arms around me, careful not to wet my clothes as she keeps an arm over my shoulder. "I can't believe I missed it!"

I lift one shoulder in a little shrug. "It's not like it was spectacular. I bombed."

"Nah," crows Jasper, looking smug. "You aced it."

"It was pretty alright," I admit with a laugh. I grab my bag off the counter. "Okay, okay. Enough of this shit. I have to get to work." I point to Jasper, who's standing in front of the open fridge. "Don't. Be. Late."

He waves a hand at me from behind the fridge door. "Yep."

Avoiding the rain, I drive the short distance to work, sitting in the car for a few minutes before my shift starts. I usually wait until just after I wake up to call Edward, since he's almost a full day behind, but I can't wait any longer to tell him. As I scroll through my phone to find his number, the smile on my face threatens to split my cheeks in two leaving me looking like a female version of The Joker. His phone rings twice, three times, four, until his message bank picks up.

"I did it!" I squeal into the phone, my voice bouncing around my tiny car. "I stood up, and I fucking surfed. Oh my God, it was the most amazing thing ever. Shit. Okay. Call me back."

Using my handbag as cover, I duck from my car into the bar, cursing as I step right into a shallow puddle, sending water up into my shoe. The storm hasn't let up at all, and for now it doesn't look like it will. I know we need the rain, but all I can think about is how sorely I miss the warm weather already. The tips of my fingers are icy and my feet are cold. And to think it's not even winter yet, and it's only going to get colder.

Spending the winter alone, without Edward around to keep me warm, is a sobering thought. If only it was me travelling the world, following the sun from continent to continent. But, with my new Arts course beginning mid-year, there's no way on earth that will be happening any time soon.

Yep. I'm going to be a college student. The signed application is all set to be sent off, I've chosen my electives, and when June rolls around I'll begin my Bachelor of Arts at Melbourne University. I'm more excited than anything, but then it's still almost three months away, there's plenty of time to freak out.

The bar is quiet when I arrive. The off-season has officially settled in and the town is left once again to the locals. Kate is the only one behind the bar when I clock in, having worked through the lunch shift.

"Word on the street is you caught your first wave," she says, a tea towel hanging from her fingers.

I roll my eyes at the computer screen, tapping my staff number in. "How did you know?"

She points across the bar to where the pool tables are, and lifting my head, I find Riley, Jacko and Embry among a bunch of guys all gathered around the table.

I cluck my tongue. "They're like an old wives club; yap, yap, yap."

After an hour or so, Kate clocks off, leaving me and Jasper – who of course turned up late. The dinner crowd is quiet, the storm keeping most people inside. The few who brave the weather come in drenched and windblown, looking for somewhere warm to sit.

I'm wasting time rewashing glasses when Jasper reaches over the sink, his head close to my ear. "If old mate at the end of the bar doesn't stop checking you out I'm going to have to clock him," he whispers, gesturing to the guys at the end of the bar.

Sure enough, there's a guy looking over, his eyes sliding away as they meet mine. He's tall, almost as tall as Edward is, but a little broader, wider, a little more defined than the wiry boy I'm used to. But he is attractive, there's no doubt about it. His close-cropped light blonde hair makes his skin look like honey; dark and golden, the kind of tan girls would pay good money for.

Rolling my eyes, I nudge Jasper away with my hip, and return to washing the glasses and watching the rain dribble down the windows. Avoiding a scene however, I attend to he and his friends rather than letting Jasper and his smart mouth get him into trouble. Ordering a drink, his accent is thick and his smile sweet, if not a little over the top. He's flirting; he knows it, and I know it. The only difference is that I know nothing will come of it.

I set his beer on the counter in front of him. "Five bucks, thanks."

He hands me a five, his golden tanned skin brushing against mine as his fingers linger just a little too long against mine. Jacko catches my eye over the guy's shoulder, his chin and brows rising in silent question. With a slight shake of my head he goes back to his game of pool, but something tells me there are more than just one pair of eyes on me tonight.

The attractive backpacker and his mate sit at the bar for a while, and I can feel him watching me as I work. It's not creepy, just a little weird. I'm not used to being looked at like that by anyone other than Edward, and it's making me nervous. The bar is quiet though, so I kind of have to make small talk with him. He's nice enough; he and his friends are regaling me with tales of their travels in South America, Brazil, Indonesia and Australia. He's had the life I could only dream of and jealousy streaks through me; thick and bitter, as I wish I had just swallowed my pride and gone with Edward.

Riley and Jacko keep one eye on the pool table and the other on my little flirty friend, ever the watchful friends they are, although I don't know who they're protecting; me or Edward. But when it's clear that neither he or his friend are in with a chance, they pay up and head off, leaving the boys at the pool table and the regulars nursing their drinks.

At eleven we push the stragglers out and lock up, and Jasper stays behind to count up the till while I head out.

The first thing I do is check my phone.

No missed calls.

No messages.

I'm not worried. I know how busy he is, and I'll speak to him in the morning anyway. Regardless, it would have been nice to talk to him before I went to sleep.

After some soup and toast, I slip into another hot shower before bed, digging my flannel pajamas out from the bottom of my drawers. I chuckle at the little love hearts all over the warm, fuzzy material, remembering Edward's distaste for sleepwear. I figure what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

Plugging my phone into its charger, the screen lights up and I see the little notification for a missed call from Edward. This time he answers, but surprisingly the first thing I hear is the thump-thump of music in the background.

"Hey!" he yells. "Gimme a sec."

I sit in silence as the sound is muffled and the music begins to die down.

"You there?" His voice never ceases to send a thrill of both excitement and comfort through me.

"Yeah," I chuckle, confused. "Where are you?"

His drawn out sigh turns into a groan. "Some nightclub. Emmett's filthy drunk, and James is trying to pick up anything wearing a dress."

Images of Edward in some Brazilian nightclub surrounded by dark-skinned beauties assault me. But I push them away, refusing to think about it.

"Hm. Sounds like fun."

"Nah not really. Hey, tell me about this wave. I can't believe I missed it!"

"Yeah, it was pretty cool." I launch into a shorter version of the event, trying my hardest to explain how it happened.

"...I was so knackered, and the storm was coming up so fast. So—"

"There was a storm?"

"Uh, yeah. But anyway—"

"Jasper let you go out in a storm?"

The words stall in my throat as my brow creases. "No. I went out right before the storm came."

"Jesus, Bella. Do you know how dangerous it is during a storm?" His angry tone takes the words right out of my mouth, and I'm left silent. "Jasper's gunna get a fucking spray for this—"

"Hang on," I interrupt, confused and bordering on irritated. "Don't be an asshole. I _went_ out. It was _my_ choice."

"Yeah, and it was a bad choice, Bella. I told Jasper to look out for you. You don't know the water like he does, you don't know how to get out of trouble if you get caught. And don't call me an asshole when I'm trying to watch out for you."

The pillow bears the brunt of my fist as I slam it down. "I'll call you an asshole 'cos you're being an asshole."

I pull the phone away from my ear as Edward hisses a string of words I'd rather not hear. "Whatever," he spits. "Can we drop it? I don't want to argue."

"Fine."

There's a moment of silence between us, and I can't tell if he's waiting for me to speak first, or if he's sitting there stewing over the whole storm nonsense.

After a moment he says something quietly, but his voice is interrupted by loud music.

I press the phone to my ear a little harder. "What?"

He repeats himself, but again, it gets lost in the loud noises around him. Someone calls his name, and then suddenly he's gone for a moment, his hand over the receiver as he talks to someone, laughing loudly. I miss his laugh, and hearing it without seeing the accompanying smile just makes it worse.

"Hey, can I call you back later?"

My heart sinks. "Um. Yeah, okay."

"James and Pete want to go to some place up the street."

"Okay."

He pauses for a moment. "Are you pissy with me?"

"No. Why?"

"You just sound weird."

"How do I sound weird?"

"I dunno."

A sigh slips out, and I roll onto my side, burying my face under my doona. "I'm fine."

"No you're not. What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Can you just stop asking me that?"

"Calm down. Fuck. What's wrong with you?"

"Oh my God, nothing, just go and call me back later."

I hang up without waiting for him to reply, and the minute I do, I feel shitty. I don't know why I got so defensive; I know he's only looking out for me. I guess the idea that he's out somewhere, surrounded by warm tropical air and some fantastic nightclub makes me a little jealous. It's not that I'm worried about the girls. It's never been like that with Edward because I trust him implicitly. It's that he's there; halfway across the world living his dream, while I'm here in flannelette pajamas and toe socks like a loser.

He doesn't ring back, and I fall asleep with my phone in my hand working up the courage to do it.

That night I barely sleep. The clock on my phone mocks me with the time when I open my eyes.

_3:30am_

_4:15am_

Frustrated, I toss my pillow to the floor, trying to find comfort in my suddenly too-spacious, too-empty bed.

_5:55am_

At around six-thirty I finally find sleep.

Around lunch time, the dull rumble of my phone's vibrate setting yanks me out of my dream and I instantly answer, fumbling a little as I bring it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey." His voice is hoarse and throaty.

My entire body wilts in relief. "You sound like shit."

He forces a short chuckle. "Yeah, I feel like shit. I'm hung over as fuck."

Through the windows I can hear the steady drip, drip, drip of the water falling from the gutters, and the pitter-patter of light rain on the garden outside. The storm has eased, but the rain still hasn't stopped.

"I'm sorry for being a bitch last night."

Edward groans. "You weren't a bitch. I _was_ an asshole."

I don't know how to reply. He was a bit of a wanker, but in the grey light of a new day, and with him so far away, it all seems to trivial and stupid.

"I guess I was just pissed off that I wasn't there for your first proper surf," he admits.

The ache of longing blooms in my chest, and I bite my lip in order to keep my voice from betraying me. "I know. I wish you'd been here too. But you'll be home soon and we can go out together." I laugh shakily, trying on a wobbly smile. "It was probably a fluke anyway."

He's quiet, and when he finally speaks the echoing ache in his voice mirrors my own and breaks my heart just a little bit more. "I miss you like crazy, Bella. I don't know what's going on."

"I miss you too."

"I didn't know it was going to be this hard. It's like it's there every minute, every day, and I don't know what to do about it."

A tear slips from my eye and into my pillow as another one slides over the bridge of my nose before landing with a plop on the pillowcase. Closing my eyes, I whisper, "Six weeks," in a vain attempt at making us feel better. Only it doesn't, and six weeks suddenly feels like an eternity.

He sighs, and when I squeeze my eyes together tightly I can see him with his head down, scrubbing his fingers through his hair like he does when he's particularly frustrated. I want so much to be able to tell him something to make him feel better, but what is there to say? He's got another month and a half before he can come home, and aside from the dodgy Skype calls with fuzzy reception, there's nothing more either of us can do until then.

Edward takes a long deep breath. "Six weeks, hey? Guess that's not too bad."

"We can do it, Edward. Just think about coming home. I'll be here."

"Yeah, I know. And I love you even more for that. For waiting."

"Like I have a choice. I love you, so I'll wait."

* * *

**Tiff and Shell beta'd and then I wrote a bunch of stuff afterwards so all the errors are mine, trust me. The lovely Ink preread before also, thank you, girl. **

**And thanks to you for sticking around. We're almost there, I promise. xx**


	33. Thirty-Two

**This is completely un-beta'd. Sorry.**

**Disclaimer: All mistakes are totally mine, as is the story. Twilight, however, is not.**

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"I got this need for you, forming in my beating heart." -_ 'Warm Water' Banks_

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

* * *

One week slips slowly into another, and before I know it I'm closing in on almost eight weeks without Edward. As far away as it seems though, we're already making plans for his homecoming. Plans that include my bedroom, zero clothing, and not much else.

After sleeping on my own for so long, I never thought I'd miss having someone else in the bed with me. But I want nothing more than to feel him tucked up behind me in the mornings. I miss his warm breath on the back of my neck, the scratch of his hairy legs tangled between mine. The rest – the way he tastes, the way he touches me, the way he loves me – all comes second to just having him _home_.

We haven't tried the phone sex thing again since he left me hanging the first time. To be honest, two full grown males sharing a tiny hotel room with one bathroom doesn't sound like the pinnacle of privacy anyway. I think we've just come to terms with the fact that we're both stretched tight with pent-up sexual tension. Nevertheless it's there all the same. I try my hardest not to think about him relieving the stress in the shower. Or in bed, his skin shining in the balmy island heat-

"You okay?" whispers Rosie, her knee nudging mine. Blinking the lusty haze from my eyes, I nod, making the effort to curve my lips up a little in a smile. I nod, trying not to blush as I realise I've been fantasizing about Edward touching himself while his mum and dad sit just feet away.

After running into her at the supermarket, Esme twisted our arms into coming over for dinner. Well, to be totally honest there was very little twisting; once she said she was making sticky date pudding there wasn't a chance in hell we were going to miss out.

Full-bellied and sleepy from a huge meal, the rest of the Masen family lounges in various positions around the TV as Esme figures out how to work the DVR machine.

"Embry'll be home in a minute," assures Carlisle as little Emily climbs up his chest like a monkey, her pointy little elbow smacking him in the side of the head.

"No, I can do it," replies Esme stubbornly, pressing another button. "What does HDMI mean?"

"Are you sure you taped it?"

Esme stabs the remote a few more times, getting visibly annoyed. "Yes, Carlisle. It was on right after The Morning Show the other day."

Eli sits beside me on Rosie's lap, listening intently to her read a story quietly. He's such a sweet, quiet little boy, totally the opposite of most of the other Masen boys and even Emily who I have no doubt is the cause of many of Carlisle's new grey hairs.

Frustrated, Esme gives up on the remote and begins pressing buttons on the DVR machine. One of the morning shows ran a minute-long piece about the boys and included a tiny snippet of an interview with Edward. He mumbled through most of it, and touched his hair like he does when he's nervous, but for a brief moment I got to see him, and that's all that matters. Rosie and I don't have the heart to tell her that we've seen the spot already; she's so excited.

Embry arrives a few minutes later, still wearing footy shorts and a boots; the little plastic cleats on the bottom click-clacking across the linoleum floor.

"How was training?" asks Carlisle, wrestling Emily off the back of the sofa.

Embry replies with a shrug and a mumbled alright as he moves straight for the fridge. As mature as he can be, and after everything he went through with his cancer, I forget that Embry is just a teenage boy; sullen, moody, smelly, and tonight, covered in grass stains and dirt.

"Aha!" cries Esme, pointing at the TV. The end of a morning talk show flashes up on the screen and before I know it, there's Edward in glorious 56 inch HD colour.

The interviewer is obviously a fan, he's as close to a giggly fangirl as a guy can get_._ He's gripping the microphone so hard I can see the white of his knuckles as he lifts it. _"This is Pete Taylor for Surf Life, and I'm here with Aussie pro surfer Edward Masen. How ya doing, Edward?"_ Edward smiles, shaking his hand and replying with a very quiet '_hey'_ before Pete continues. "You've_ got Tavarua in Fiji after the comp here in Rio, and then on to Trestles in California. Now, they're both known for their big waves, so which one are you looking forward to the most?"_

The skin between Edward's eyes puckers as he thinks, his eyes cutting to the side for a moment before sliding back._ "Um, I guess Trestles is pretty amazing. I always have a really good time there. The waves are always a bit of fun, and it'd be nice to get a good result this year, you know, take advantage of the conditions. But Tavarua is beautiful, too. It's got a great vibe down there and, um, yeah, I'd love to take my girlfriend there actually. All the white sand and rainforest and stuff... she'd love it."_

Esme beams at me from the floor in front of the TV. I blush, smiling back.

"_So, what do you do in your down time? You can't surf all the time, but what do you do when you're so far from home?"_

Edward's fingers brush at the five o-clock shadow on his cheek and he smiles. _"Not much really. I read a bit, hang out with my brother... I try to stay in touch with my family back home and stuff—" _he runs a hand over his hair, his long fingers making a mess of the stylists work,_ "—distance makes it hard, you know. But I'm really lucky to be surrounded by loving and supportive people."_

_"Yeah, nice. And finally; your pick for the world title this year. Who will it be and why?"_

The smile I've been living without for months explodes across his face, making his eyes crinkle at the sides. _"Uh, well, you can't go past my brother, man. He's come home strong these past few heats and he's got it in him to win. I'd love to see Laurent get up there, but I think Cameron or Emmett will bring it home for sure."_

The segment continues with a few seconds of footage and some stock photos of the boys from a few years back before it ends and the screen goes back to the menu. Even though I've seen it, seeing it on the Masen's huge TV screen was infinitely better than my laptop.

"Any idea how long they're home for?" Rosie asks.

Esme shakes her head, looking back at the screen like she could watch the ten second clip for hours. "They haven't said anything, but I imagine it'll be about two weeks. They've got Trestles in August"

Two weeks. All this waiting and then just _two weeks_.

* * *

Later that night, Rosalie slips from my bed back to hers after watching the ASP coverage well into the night with me. As the autumn wind buffets the side of the house I dream of hot, sun-warmed skin, of lop-sided smiles and bright blue eyes. I dream of the front seat of his yellow van, the wind whipping around my face as I watch him behind the wheel, the light streaming in the front window, casting him in a yellow glow.

I can smell the salt in the air.

Feel the hot leather under my legs.

Hear the rumble of his van's engine.

When I turn to look at him and he gives me one of those smiles and yearning blossoms deep in my chest, the ferocity of it waking me up.

Cold and dark in my room, the smell of salt and summer wind drifts away. Even with my new electric blanket on high I tug the sheets up higher, burying deeper into my pillows to push away the sounds of my dream that stick in my mind.

Only, there's one sound that lingers.

I sit up slowly, and when the sound doesn't stop I'm up and out my bed before I realise what I'm doing. My socked feet slide across the tiled hallway and out of the front door, the screen closing with a loud bang behind me.

There, in the dark of the early morning, standing beside the rumbling yellow van, is Edward.

Reaching into the car, he turns the engine off and takes a step towards me and without a second thought my feet propel me forward until I'm in his arms. He clutches me tightly but not nearly tight enough, lifting me onto my tiptoes as I bury my face into the crook of his neck. His hoodie smells like peppermint Extra and the inside of his van, and I've never loved a smell so much in my life.

"What did I tell you about pajamas?" he mumbles, his voice muffled by my shoulder as his hands slide down my back to squeeze my butt before he lowers me to the ground.

I step back, taking in his navy hoodie and jeans combo. "What are you doing here?"

Edward shrugs. "I left early."

My fingers clutch the material of his jumper as my eyes catalogue every inch of his face from the stubble on his jawline to the hair peeking out from beneath his hood and the dark rings beneath his eyes. "Will your team be upset? What about Emmett? When do you have to go back?"

He smiles, tugging me close by the flannel of my pajama shirt. "How are you so talkative for four o'clock in the morning?" His forehead is warm as he presses it to mine.

"I can't believe you're here."

His fingers brush my sleep-mussed hair from my face. "Believe it. Now will you shut up so I can kiss you?"

His lips are on mine before I can answer.

An overwhelming sense of rightness sweeps over me at the touch of his lips against mine. His kisses feel like home, like familiarity, like everything in the world is right again. I can feel the cold cement of the driveway through my thick sleep socks, and the wind is frigid against the small parts of bare skin that are exposed but I don't care.

Breaking the kiss, Edward sighs. Goosebumps pebble my skin as the wind picks up, and Edward rubs his hands up and down my arms in an effort to warm me. "Can we go inside, or do you want to stand out here all night?"

Once we're inside I'm not quite sure what to do. Rosie is still fast asleep, and for once Edward doesn't seem at ease enough to make himself at home. Instead, he stands in the living room with his hands in his pockets watching me as I stand around looking awkward in my pajamas.

"Do you want a drink or something?"

He shakes his head. "Can I have a shower though? It's been two days since I've had one."

His gentle smile snaps me out of my idleness. "Oh shit, of course. I'll get you a towel."

As I place the clean towel on the bathroom counter, Edward closes the door behind him, tugging his hood off his head and unzipping the front. I watch as he slings the jacket over the bathroom rail, and tugs his t-shirt off over his head. My eyes devour the bare skin of his upper body, the form I've come to be so familiar with. His skin is impossibly darker and there are new patches of freckles across the tops of his shoulders from days spent in the tropical sun.

When he unbuttons the fly of his jeans and they drop to the floor, I'm unsure whether to go or stay. After thirty hours of travelling he must be tired, but after two months of not seeing him, the thought of leaving him, even just to shower, is too much.

"Stay?" he asks, his fingers wrapping around the tips of mine as the steam begins to fill the bathroom.

Suddenly speechless, I nod, and he reaches forward to unbutton my shirt, letting it fall from my shoulders. The bathroom air is still cold, and my skin pebbles instantly, the reaction increased as warm palms slide up my sides to rest chastely on my hips. He kisses me again, and his hands tug at my stretchy flannel pants until they fall to my feet. Ridding himself of his boxers, he tugs me by the hand until we're both under the hot water. He swallows as his eyes take in every dip and curve of my body from head to toe, his gaze lingering on the parts I know to be his favourites.

Rivulets of water fall over his head, catching in his sun-bleached lashes and falling in trails over the skin of his cheekbones. The heat from the shower intensifies the scent I've come to know as Edward; sweet but masculine, like hazy summer days and Sex Wax. Warm hands slide up my back until I'm pressed against him from head to toe, the water cascading over the two of us. I can feel him hard against my hip bone, but when I reach for him he captures my hand and holds it tightly in his own.

"Just… not yet."

But I can't help but touch him. My fingers skim his sternum, my lips kissing each new freckle on his honey-brown skin. His hand tightens around my hips as his head falls to my shoulder.

"You're not making this easy, Bella."

Turning, I kiss his cheek, his hairline, his ear. "I missed you."

Sliding a hand up and into my wet hair, Edward lifts his head and stares down at me with a look of reverence that makes my heart swell. Instead of answering, he kisses me again.

I don't know how long we stand there for. My skin is soft and wrinkled by the time he turns the water off, the heat of the warm water making me drowsy all over again. Stepping out of the shower, I shiver violently as the cold air hits me, my hair sending rivers of cold water dripping down my back and the backs of my legs. Shaking, I wrap my towel around me and watch as Edward does the same, his skin honey coloured against my white towel.

With my hair still wet, we climb into my bed and immediately he tucks me close, close, closer, like he can't get near enough. It might be weird if I didn't feel the same way; like there is no possible way that I could be close enough to him. It's a little awkward, my nose is pressed to the skin of his sternum, my head tucked under his chin, but I don't care. My left arm will go numb soon from his weight, and I'm pretty sure he must have a mouthful of my hair, but as he pushes his thigh between mine and tucks me closer still I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be but uncomfortable in my bed with this boy.

Still warm from the hot shower, his hands trail up the dip in my spine, the movement sending a shudder through me. My eyes beg with me to sleep; their lids heavy and gritty, each blink harder than the last.

"How long?"

Edward sighs, his whole chest expanding and contracting beneath my arms.

"Not long enough."

* * *

**Apologies to Shell, Tiff and Ink for posting without beta. They've done a bang tidy job until now, I just got lazy and impatient to post. **

**This chapter is for anyone who's missing someone. You know who you are ;)**

**xx Wink**


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